


Two Bounty Hunters One Pirate

by Gone_to_Florrum



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, Aurra does it like a man, Cad Bane doesn't work for free, Drunk Sex, F/M, Hate Sex, Hondo loves skinny bounty hunters, Horrid Fluff, Humor, M/M, Multi, Poor Obi-Wan, S&M, Spicewine surprise, crackfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:40:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 30,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gone_to_Florrum/pseuds/Gone_to_Florrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An assorted bunch of ficlets and drabbles focussing on Cad Bane, Aurra Sing, Hondo Ohnaka and the chaos they leave in their wake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Temporary Lapse in Judgement (Cad Bane/Aurra Sing)

**Author's Note:**

> An assorted bunch of ficlets and drabbles focussing on Cad Bane, Aurra Sing and Hondo Ohnaka. Pairings are listed separately for each ficlet, but are predominantly either Cad/Aurra, Hondo/Aurra, Hondo/Cad or Hondo/Aurra/Cad (you know, if they can remain on civil enough terms for long enough). As most were written while the Clone Wars was still airing some ficlets will contradict later canon events. Some ficlets form an almost-sort-of continuity, others don't.

**Title:** A Temporary Lapse in Judgement

 **Summary:** A cautionary tale of two bounty hunters, an unorthodox drinking game and one hell of an embarrassing morning after. 

**Pairing:** Cad Bane/Aurra Sing

**-o0O0o-**  


As Cad Bane emerged from the blessed haven of unconsciousness into the not-so-blessed realm of the morning after the night before, he became instantly aware of three salient facts. The first, that a hoard of angry pygmy rancors seemed to be charging relentlessly against the inside of his skull. The second, that he was wearing his boots, hat, blaster holsters and not a stitch more. And the third, that he was slumped over a body: a living, breathing and very naked body.

Unable to bring himself to open his eyes and allow the harsh, unforgiving light of the Keyorin dawn to fuel the rampaging rancors in his head, he used his right hand to make a rudimentary investigation of the body underneath him.

To his relief it was clearly humanoid (and not – thank all the deities in the galaxy – Hutt shaped); indicating that he had at least not made a repeat of his last drunken folly (he'd had to terminate sixty-seven separate individuals and ninety-eight droids in order stop that one from getting out). It was also clearly female and in good shape, with a firm ass, taut belly, nicely proportioned tits and... and a set of abnormally long fingers that appeared to be making a haphazard exploration of his back.

He groaned, a queasy feeling not directly connected to the copious amounts of strong liquor in which he'd quite obviously partaken in the previous night stirring in his gut.

Still, one had to be rational; there were probably lots of women in the galaxy with fingers like that: hell, there were probably whole planets full of them. There was no reason whatsoever to think he'd been stupid enough or suicidal enough to...

The body shifted and he became cognizant that his left hand was pressing against what felt to be a very thin metal rod.

A distinctly antenna-like thin metal rod.

Eyes snapping open, he sat bolt upright to find his worst fears confirmed in the form of a slender, very pale woman with a topknot of reddish-brown hair protruding from an otherwise bald skull.

"Aurra?"

"Bane?"

For several seconds the known galaxy's most infamous living bounty hunter and the known galaxy's second most infamous living bounty hunter stared at one another in what could only be described as total and utter horror.

Surely they couldn't... they hadn't...

Then, despite Bane's dearest wishes to the contrary, the events of the previous night began to flood back.

He'd walked into a bar, one of the many grimy, nondescript little places that littered the port, looking for a convenient place to privately lament the failure of his last job. He hadn't known that Sing was on Keyorin, but had clocked her immediately, sitting alone in a darkened corner with an appallingly smug expression on her face. Had she not also simultaneously clocked him, he would have walked straight back out and found another place in which to engage in a bit (or maybe a lot) of solitary drinking. Alas, she had, and it really wouldn't do to give her the idea that her presence alone was enough to send him away. Cad Bane was the galaxy's premier bounty hunter and he wasn't about to let the upstart psychopath think otherwise. So he'd gone over and tipped his hat and asked her how business was going. Not a question that should have led to anything but a brief and rather terse exchange, but she'd been in a surprisingly good mood: something to do with obtaining another trophy lightsaber for her little collection. He'd been tempted, on hearing this, to speculate outloud that her uncharacteristic amicability was the result of her finally finding one with a vibrate setting, but had managed to restrain himself – if only he hadn't, he would have awoken that morning with nothing worse than a broken nose and a couple of black eyes. Then... then, not wanting to seem down on his luck (despite the latest costly run-in with Skywalker and his damned padawan) he'd ordered drinks for both of them and done a little light bragging about a job he'd recently pulled on Nar Shadaar, and Aurra, clearly not wanting to outdone, had returned the drinks-buying favour threefold and – with rather too much self-satisfaction – detailed a few recent kills.

She had also, obviously a little tipsy at this point, made a comment about her antenna picking up the most hysterically funny calls on the local holonet sex line.

Bane shouldn't have asked for details, he really shouldn't. But by then he'd been feeling mellow and magnanimous and – when it came down to it – just a little intrigued; and so he had and she'd handed him an earpiece and, after several minutes of listening to a Dug expound upon his deepest, darkest desires to a reconditioned BD-3000 droid doing a below par imitation of a Twi'lek bar girl, they'd somehow decided to make a drinking game of it. The rules of the game had been a little ill defined, something along the lines of: 'drink a shot each time you don't correctly guess the next caller's species and weird fetish' and pretty soon they were both three (or maybe even four, five or six) sheets to the wind and merrier than a pack of Gammoreans in a mud pit.

Around the sixth or seventh call (a Zabrak fantasising about some harsh discipline at the hands of a strict Nemoidian tax collector) it had started to dawn on Bane that Aurra was actually a very attractive woman. Oh sure, there was the homicidal mania and the general sense that she'd detach your sex organs from your body as soon as look at you, but she had damned fine rear and a pair of tits you could happily bury your face in; and thus, right there and then, she'd seemed like the most desirable individual he'd ever set eyes on (despite the fact that if he stopped focusing hard enough he could only see two rather indistinct versions of her). He had told her this, in what he thought was a very smooth and charming sort of way, and – being in much the same state of inebriation as himself – she had actually seemed charmed.

And that was how he, Cad Bane: Bounty Hunter Extraordinaire, had ended up in bed with a sometimes colleague, sometimes rival, whose grasp on sanity was about as tenuous as Senator Expen Dee Bell's claims that he'd genuinely thought that that house of pleasure he'd been secretly filmed in was a local chapter of 'The Campaign For the Furtherance of Moral Decency in the Republic' (Bane didn't usually do 'divorce work', feeling it a bit beneath a hunter of his calibre, but the price the good senator's wife had put on his head was almost enough to tempt him).

Eventually it was it was Aurra who broke the horrified silence.

"This didn't happen," she said firmly, shoving him off her, getting to her feet and scooping up her orange jumpsuit from the floor.

"Right," he agreed, unable to keep himself from wondering why the hell his boots were on but his trousers were on the other side of the dingy hotel room. Everything after the bar was still a blur of skin on skin and sharp fingernail raking down his back. It was, on balance, probably better than it stayed that way. "Nothing happened and there's nobody who can say otherwise."

"Good. I'm glad that we agree." Implicit in her tones was the notion that not agreeing would directly lead to his rapid ascension to the afterlife. He couldn't help but inwardly snort at this. Sing was good at what she did, but she wasn't as good as him. No reason to unnecessarily antagonise her though, not when he might need to partner up with a competent sniper in the near future.

Wordlessly, she dressed and left; not willing to let her total mortification show, but not willing to look him in the eye either.

As she slammed the door behind her, he groaned. He really had to stop hitting the bottle. Still, at least there hadn't been any actual witnesses to the act itself this time. Nobody had seen anything other than two professionals go into the same room. Nothing unusual about that. And if they had been leaning against one another a little more intimately than one would expect, then so what. Lots of reasons why a pair of brutal contract killers might lean against each other: injury, for instance, or fear of the other making off with the loot.

With this semi-comforting thought in his mind he sank back, shut his eyes and tried to will away the pounding, rancor rampage of a headache.

Had the blood in his ears not been pumping quite so vigorously he might have heard the sound of 'something' moving in the hotel's ancient ventilation system. Had he done so and deigned to investigate further, he might have apprehended an eye-patch wearing Patrolian carrying several thousand credits worth of surveillance equipment.

As it was, he didn't and so Robonino, now in possession of a recording that would quite possibly make him so rich that he'd never be forced to endure the moniker 'Bubble Brain' again, headed towards his ship, a huge leering grin on his face. He'd briefly considered blackmail, but had very quickly come to the conclusion that trying that would very quickly lead to his own painful demise. No, this one was going straight onto galactic pay-per-view and, with any luck, the two most infamous living bounty hunters in the known galaxy would never realise who was responsible for bringing their exploits to the masses.


	2. Another Temporary Lapse in Judgement (Cad Bane/Aurra Sing)

**Title:** Another Temporary Lapse in Judgement

**Summary:** Bane once again falls afoul of the demon drink

**Pairing:** Cad Bane/Aurra Sing (implied), Hondo Ohnaka/Aurra Sing (mentioned)

**-o0O0o-**

He awoke with a pounding headache, a searing pain in his back and the sound of female chortling filling his ears.

Groaning, Cad Bane forced his eyes open and saw a slumbering Weequay, an unconscious Patrolian, a snoring Trandoshan and a pair of Racor hide boots.

"Nice tattoo," the owner of the boots said.

"Tattoo?" he murmured, before recalling the events of the previous evening. The annual Assassins, Bounty Hunters and Associated Mercenaries Life Day bash(1).... The requisite celebratory drink (or seventeen)..... The stroll through the streets of Nar Shaddaa with three sometimes-colleagues/sometimes-irritants(2).... The sight of the tattoo parlour and Shahan Alama's sudden decision to get the word 'Killer' emblazoned on his arm in some obscure Huttese dialect.... Bane's sudden compulsion to go one (or rather ten) better.

"What was it supposed to be?" Aurra asked(3).

"Tale of Two Hunters. Verse thirty-two," he muttered grudgingly. It was a truly inspiration quote about the importance of getting paid well for one's work. However, Aurra's schadenfreud-laced amusement was a clear indication that this was not in fact what he presently had written on his back.

"Appropriate," she said.

"You going to tell me it's a take-away menu or something?"

"Close. It's a menu... of sorts." She laughed again.

"Well?" He snarled, with as much venom as he could muster.

Unperturbed, Aurra sank down on to her knees and proceeded to run cold fingers over the markings that now resided between his shoulder blades. Under other circumstances he might have found this arousing, right now however, he had to suppress the urge to snap her wrist(4).

"As far as I can tell it's a pricelist for the services on offer at Madam Fireflower's House of Pleasures and Delights."

He groaned.

She snorted. "Though I have to say, your rates are very reasonable. I don't think I've ever heard of anybody doing Number Eight on there for less than six-hundred credits before."

"What!" Horrified, he jumped to his feet.

Aurra rolled her eyes. "Relax, Bane. It's the kind you can remove. Alama and Bossk on the other hand...." She smirked in a decidedly evil fashion.

Bane however wasn't paying attention.

Swearing vengeance, he reached for his (now somewhat battered) hat, put on his duster and stalked out into the foetid Nar Shaddaa dawn.

It was one thing to have a list of whore's tricks on your back. But cut price whore's tricks? No one did that to Cad Bane and got away with it.

***

(1)Let it not be said that the ABH&AM Club was without a sense of (ironic) humour.

(2)The distinction between the two tended to be a matter of timing.

(3)She herself had not been present at the actual tattooing event, having opted to spend her evening engaged in that most ancient and respected of Life Day traditions known as: Having a blazing row with your ex-lover over the most inconsequential matter imaginable(3a).

(3a)And dammit she was right. It had been Senator Expen Dee Bell not Representative Dehd Soohn who'd ordered that hit on the head of MisanthroTech Systems three years ago.

(4)It was amazing how difficult it was to find a top class sniper with no morals and a taste for insanely high risk ventures at short notice.


	3. One Bounty Hunter, Toasted (Hondo/Aurra)

**Title:** One Bounty Hunter, Toasted

**Summary:** Following the crash of Slave 1 on Florrum, Hondo Ohnaka muses on his past relationship with a certain 'very dangerous woman'.

**Pairing:** Hondo Ohnaka/Aurra Sing

**-o0O0o-**

As the light dimmed over Florrum, the last remaining fires continued to spark and fizzled on the ground around Slave 1.

High above, on the cliffs overlooking the crash site, one Weequay pirate and one decidedly bored Monkey Lizard stood watching the smoke rise.

"So this is how it ends," said Hondo Ohnaka, shaking his head. "I always said that she'd go down in a ball of flames."

The Monkey Lizard made a sharp shrieking sound that roughly translated as: 'Good riddance to bad rubbish '.

Hondo sympathised the sentiment but couldn't quite bring himself to share it. His own feelings on the matter were presently an odd mixture of relief, sadness and acute annoyance. Relief, because he'd managed to avoid getting drawn into Aurra's final catastrophe; sadness, because, despite everything, he was still going to miss her; annoyance, because a good portion of his base would have to be repaired and... well, if damned woman had had sense to quit while she was ahead she wouldn't have just been incinerated.

The Jedi hadn't found a body. Though they had, Hondo had heard, managed to detect enough toasted organic matter on the ship to come to the conclusion that Aurra Sing was no more. Looking at the burned out cockpit, it seemed unlikely that they were mistaken. The ship – and what a beauty that one was – would be salvageable, but that particular area seemed to have been utterly gutted.

He wished, in a way, that there had been a body: something to give a decent send-off to. On the other hand, he supposed that it had at least probably not been a prolonged and excruciating death. Just one short, sharp explosion and no more Aurra. He didn't like to think of her suffering at the end. She probably, in the eyes of most right thinking individuals in the galaxy, deserved to suffer, but he had loved her once, in his way, and had never quite managed to shake the fondness.

"You never did listen, Aurra," he said to the wreckage, with a heavy sigh, before taking a glug from the flask of spice-laced Corellian brandy he'd been carrying with him. "I told you that tangling with the Jedi wasn't a good idea." He refrained from mentioning that until that altercation with the farmers on Felucia, he himself hadn't quite come so well and truly to the conclusion that it just wasn't worth it.

"You shouldn't have dragged Jango's son into this either," he went on, scolding the remnants of the burning ship. "I know that you always said you had unfinished business with the Jedi, but he's just a child, and now... well, who knows what will happen to him now." He never had known quite why she'd always loathed the Jedi with the intensity that she did; and, given the ferocity of her reaction on the two occasions on which he'd enquired about the subject, he hadn't been inclined to pursue the matter either.

Jango had known. Hondo was almost certain of that. But Jango had been an honourable man and not the sort to tattle without good reason (or at least good payment).

With a nostalgic half smile, he recalled how Jango had been the first person to voice misgivings about the relationship with Aurra. Well, 'voice misgivings' was perhaps something of an understatement; 'question both Hondo's sanity and his commitment to remaining amongst the living' was perhaps a more accurate description.

"She's a walking personality disorder," the bounty hunter had berated, eyeing him in a manner that very strongly and directly conveyed the sentiment that a man Hondo's age really ought to know better. "A good hunter, yes. Hell, she's one of the best. But you can't trust her any further than a rabid Gundark on death sticks. There's something broken in her head, Hondo, and it's got nothing to do with that damned antenna. Woman's got demons no sane man would touch with a twelve foot electrostaff."

Ah, if only he'd listened and taken heed. But then, she'd been exotic and beautiful to him, and that reckless, self-destructive, single-minded determination to do whatever it took to get whatever she wanted had been so very exciting and appealing. She was dangerous as hell and he'd liked it.

He had only backed away when it had become clear that his crew would mutiny if he let her drag him (and by association them) into any more of her schemes. People, other than the ones who could give her something that she wanted, were utterly expendable to Aurra, and the other members of the Ohnaka Gang had been quick to catch on this fact.

She hadn't reacted well when he'd finally put his foot down and said no to her. Not well at all. The fact that he was willing to put something else above her had been nothing short of betrayal and abandonment in her eyes, even if the 'something else' in question was the continuation of his own existence.

Not that this enmity had ever actually stopped her from subsequently turning up on his doorstep at whim whenever she wanted something: be it repairs, material goods, information, sex, or just somebody to complain to when things weren't going her way. And for reasons even he himself didn't entirely understand he'd always been pleased to see her, even if nobody else on Florrum had.

Ah well, doubtless his crew would be relieved that they would no longer be at risk of crossing the path of Hurricane Aurra. Not that that really made him feel any better about the fact that she was charcoal and ashes, but that was his problem, not theirs.

He snorted and took another drink.

The Monkey Lizard made a noise of disapproval.

Hondo gave a shrug and a crooked smile. "Ah Mukmuk, you didn't know her like I did."

This was true: few people, if any, could have ever had quite the same insight into Aurra Sing that he did. He more than anybody else, with the possible exception of Jango Fett, knew that she was, well, had been - strange to have to use past tense like that - a narcissistic sociopath who was utterly incapable of caring for anybody or anything above and beyond herself.

Yet in spite of this he had still cared about her. And there had sometimes been moments – few and far between, granted – when she'd say or do something that indicated that she hadn't been thinking solely of her next bounty. Like the time she'd turned up to bust him out of that jail in the Corporate Sector, or when she'd passed on those access codes to those storage depots in the Mygeeto system without so much as asking for a cut of the loot.

Then, of course, there had been the more physical side of their relationship. He suspected that there were at least some people in the galaxy who could understand why he'd miss that: the way she used to wrap her long, long legs around him, the way she could veer between domineering and faux-coy at moment's notice, those contented little grunts she sometimes made when pulled closed, the taste of–

The Monkey Lizard gave a shriek of exasperation.

"One minute," he said, beginning to regret his decision to bring Mukmuk with him. There had always been something of an animosity between his pet and his ex-lover. The former resenting the way the latter could aim a handheld projectile with precise and deadly accuracy; and the latter being somewhat put out that Hondo seemed to credit the former with better sense and judgement than herself.

He raised the flask to the wreck. "Well, my dear, I hope you're at peace, wherever you are." Truth be told, he tended to doubt the existence of any kind of afterlife, but the thought of Aurra not scowling and smirking and breaking kneecaps somewhere, was oddly painful, and so he chose, for now, not to entertain the possibility. Then he took yet another drink, turned towards his speeder bike and... at once became acutely aware of the smell of burned hair.

Sensing danger, he looked around him and saw, to his utter astonishment, a humanoid form haul itself through a break in the rocks on the edge of the precipice: a slender humanoid form with pale skin, long fingers and a distinctly singed appearance.

"Aurra!"

The form winced and limped towards him, her right arm twisted at an agonising looking angle.

"How did you manage to–?"

"Blew the cockpit, went into the caves," she said simply, glaring at him as though he'd somehow been responsible for the whole debacle.

This did not stop him from grinning like an idiot as he moved to prop her up; slipping an arm around her and letting her grab on to his shoulders with her left arm. She immediately relaxed into his hold, but didn't thank him, opting instead to mutter something about that little wretch of a Jedi Padawan and how she intended to kill her slowly and painfully.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "My dear, don't you ever learn?"

"You wouldn't understand," she muttered through gritted teeth.

"No, I suppose not." He decided that this wasn't the time or place to point out that he had once asked, but that she'd responded in much the same manner that she always did when he asked her a question that she really didn't like.

"I thought you were dead," he went on, noting but very definitely refraining from mentioning that most of what remained of her charred hair would have to go. The long, auburn ponytail was one of the few things that she was vain to the point of impracticality about, and he really didn't want to be the one to break the news that she'd have to rely on artificial extensions for the next few years.

"No such luck, Hondo. You don't get rid of me that easily." He thought that there was a trace of amusement in her voice, but couldn't quite be sure.

"Oh, now come, you know that I'm glad to see you alive."

She snorted and then winced in pain as some slight movement or other caught one of her injuries.

"They took Jango's son," he said, voice taking on a hint of disapproval.

As overwhelmingly glad as he was that she wasn't dead, he still couldn't quite overlook the way that she'd bailed on Boba like that. True it was completely in character for Aurra, who he well knew could never be trusted to take care of anybody apart from Aurra; but Boba was just a boy, and a young boy at that, and it hadn't been right or honourable of her to abandon him after dragging him so far down her own dark and twisted path.

"I can get him back." Her tones were dismissive.

"They'll take him to the penitentiary on Coruscant," he warned, fully aware that this wouldn't make any difference whatsoever to her plans for the future, but somehow compelled to do so anyway.

With her good hand, she grabbed the flask from him and drained the contents, before handing it back. "As I say, I can get him back. He wouldn't be the first prisoner I've helped to spring from there."

Hondo knew that she'd been part of Cad Bane's team in that whole Ziro the Hutt affair. However, he doubted Bane would be interested in any ploy to spring Fett the Younger. Jango and Bane had never been able to tolerate each other's company, even when it would have been mutually beneficial.

No point debating the matter here and now though; or indeed, at any point on the future. Aurra would, as always, do whatever Aurra wanted to do; and the only sane course of action would be to get out of the way until the dust had settled. Hondo, despite being happily embroiled in a life of piracy, tried to take reasonably sane courses of action these days, he really did. And, as much as he might want his late friend's son to be released from the Coruscant Hellhole, he knew that breaking into a maximum security prison in the heart of the Republic's capital in an attempt to free him wasn't anything any sentient being with an ounce of sanity would try.

"You don't think I can do it, do you?" she said, sounding at once more woozy than indignant. He wasn't sure if it was the bust leg, the broken arm, the second degree burns, the exhaustion, the half-flask of spice-enhanced hard liquor she'd just downed or some combination thereof, but he suspected that it would be wise to get her back to base before she completely lost all lucidity.

"I think that you need medical attention," he replied, trying to coax her in the direction of the speeder bike.

For a few seconds it seemed as though she would try to resist, opting instead to stare out at the crippled form of Slave 1. Then, suddenly relenting, she made a noise that was half-way between a grunt and a sigh, let her head slump onto his shoulder and allowed herself to be led away from the wreck. "D'you think it's salvageable?"  
"The ship?"

She made a noise of assent.

"Probably. The cockpit and anterior weapons systems will have to be completely replaced, but I think that it can be repaired."

"Mmm good." She gave a groggy half-smile and kissed his neck.

He thought it perhaps best not to mention that, when Slave 1 had been suitably refitted, he had absolutely no intention of giving it back to her. Pleased as he was that she'd survived, he wasn't about to let her leave Florrum without extracting some kind of recompense for the phenomenal amount of damage she'd managed to cause. However, once done up, that classic Firespray of Jango's would, he thought, just about cover it.


	4. Unexpected Delivery (Hondo Ohnaka/Aurra Sing

**Title:** Unexpected Delivery

**Summary:** It's the same old story: pirate meets bounty hunter, pirate and bounty hunter engage in eleven year on off relationship, bounty hunter leaves unattended infant on pirate's doorstep. Inspired by the "Not mine, I take it?" in Lethal Trackdown.

**Pairing:** Hondo Ohnaka/Aurra Sing

**-o0O0o-**

It was fair to say that Hondo Ohnaka was not having the best of days.

It had started badly, with him awakening to the sound of one of his men inadvertently taking out an entire munitions store in an ill-advised thermal detonator juggling accident.

Then, as was the way of these things, events had proceeded to get progressively worse: with the crash of the compound's inventory system, the destruction of one of his favourite antique blasters, Pilf Mukmuk developing a rather messy case of food poisoning, his least favourite aunt holo-communicating her intention to come a visit and the discovery that his entire personal stash of spice-adulterated Twi'lek liquor had been infested with some unfamiliar strain of ugly, green maggot-like creature.

Therefore, it didn't entirely surprise him to find, on returning to Florrum after a blessedly straightforward excursion to helpfully free an off-course Mon Calamari merchant carrier of its cargo, that something was very wrong.

He did not, on stepping off the cruiser immediately know what it was, but he knew the warning signs. The sudden quiet of the pirates who'd remained on-world, as he and the other returnees disembarked from the ship. The side-long glances. Those quiet, almost inaudible, mutterings that all had that same distinct, agitated undertone of 'the boss is not going to be pleased'.

He was about to accost one of them at random and demand to know what was going on when he spotted a group of Weequay standing around what seemed to be some kind of open-topped crate. Guessing that the contents must be the cause of the present disquiet from the way all but one of them fled (in as nonchalant a manner as they could) as he looked in their direction, he turned and strode on over.

Then his eyes widened as he saw that the crate was not so much a crate as a bassinette.

A bassinette containing a small infant whose features strongly hinted at Weequay parentage, but whose paleness and tuft of auburn hair suggested some kind of hybridisation.

As he stared, it looked back, its green eyes somehow managing to convey extreme disgruntlement.

The remaining Weequay, a pirate by the name of Sholto who was one of the younger and more hapless members of the gang, looked at Hondo with a stricken expression.

"She just turned up, handed it to me and left," he said, as if protesting his innocence in the whole affair. "I tried to get her to wait until you were back, but she said that there was a note in the cot and that she was on a tight schedule and... and then it started screaming and didn't stop until it saw one of the Monkey Lizards jumping around."

Hondo didn't bother to ask who the 'she' in question was. He was a quick thinker and the pieces were already falling into place and forming a terrible, awful picture in his mind. Instead he tentatively reached down into the bassinette, picked up the datapad at the foot and tried to digest the unencrypted contents.

_Hondo,_

_Remember how 'friendly' things got between us last time I was here? You know, before I realised that you were planning to keep the ship. Well, this is the result._

_Yes, she is yours!_

_Yes, I am sure! What kind of woman do you think I am?_

_Her name is Ruby. She's three standard months old. She's at least half your fault._

_Anyway, I've got a job lined up with Bane and the nanny droid broke yesterday (cheap Trade Federation crap), so I thought that it was time you took some responsibility._

_Feed her a mixture of Nerf blood and Standardised Baby Formula No. 5288 and make sure she's kept clean. I'll be back for her in ten days. Let any Jedi near her and I'll castrate you. Let them take a blood sample for Midichlorian testing and I'll use a blunt dagger to do it._

_Love,  
Aurra._

Cursing, he wondered what he could have possibly done to deserve this. All right, he lived a life of shameless piracy. But surely he wasn't, in the grand scheme of things, all that bad and... and everybody knew that Humans and Weequay couldn't interbreed. Okay, fair enough, Aurra was half-human and half-other, but it should stand to reason that if the other, whatever that was (another thing she'd never told him), could successfully interbreed with humans it ought to be incompatible with Weequay.

He looked at Sholto.

"When did she leave?"

"Two hours ago."

He cursed again, this time a small, treacherous part of his mind (that sounded suspiciously like his least favourite aunt) berated him for using such language in front of a child. If Aurra had departed that long ago, there was no way that he'd be able to track her down and make her take his— her child back.

Turning his gaze back to the baby, he scrutinised her some more. She was a tiny, little thing. Far more fragile and helpless looking than anything containing half of his and half of Aurra's DNA really had a right to be.

Sholto took this switch in his boss's attention as a cue that it was permissible for him to leave. Something he did at a speed that would have done him great credit had he ever seen fit to use it during the few raids he'd participated in thus far in his pirating career.

Hondo knelt down and continued to stare at the child, who was still looking back, disgruntlement replace with a gaze of intent curiosity. Not entirely cognizant of what he was doing, he reached out to the infant, who proceeded to curl her hand around his little finger.

He groaned and fought back the urge to curse. "Fine," he said to the child, trying to sound as displeased as he could without actually being threatening. "You can stay here for ten days. Just ten. After that you're going back to your mother. And if she doesn't come here and collect you I'll take you Vanquor and feed you to the gundarks."

As if on cue the child intensified its grip on his finger and made a small whimpering noise.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, groaning. "This is Aurra's fault, not mine."

It continued to look.

"I said, don't do that," he reiterated. It was no good though, he could already feel himself weakening. There was just something in its wretched little gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruby is named in honour of Ruby Journey, the infamous bounty hunter from Simon R. Green's Deathstalker novels.


	5. A Professional Relationship (Cad Bane/Aurra Sing)

**Title:** A Professional Relationship

**Summary:** It's a well established fact that bounty hunters should only ever screw each other in a figurative sense. However, obliging Cad Bane and Aurra Sing to spend eight days in the same cramped little Nar Shaddaa bolt hole was always going to end in one of two ways: sex or death.

**Pairing:** Cad Bane/Aurra Sing, Hondo Ohnaka/Aurra Sing (mentioned), Hondo Ohnaka/Cad Bane (implied)

**-o0O0o-**

This time they didn't even have liquor as an excuse.

Naked(1), sticky and horribly sober, they regarded one another with expressions of affected distain that utterly failed to conceal their embarrassment.

"Well?" she said.

"Well!" he replied.

It was, they both knew, a well established fact that a bounty hunter should only ever screw his or her fellow contract killers in a figurative sense.

It was also however an inescapable truth that obliging the known galaxy's two most ruthless hired guns to spend eight tedious days alone together in the same cramped little Nar Shaddaa bolt hole could only have one of two outcomes: sex or death. The latter had, of course, crossed both of their minds. However, neither had been entirely confident that they could best the other in a one on one fight to the death, and they were both aware that killing their partner in crime would make the assassination of Jedi Knight Ded Mahnwahking(2) a far less certain prospect than it would be with both of them working on the job.

Thus, Eros had (temporarily at least) triumphed over Thanatos and two now found themselves trying to recover their dignity along with their breath. It was no easy matter. There is, after all, only so much face that you can save when you're bared, bruised, smeared with bodily fluids and in the presence of the co-worker you've just spent thirteen and a half minutes writhing around with on the floor.

"Forget this happened," Aurra said, fully aware her own attempt at amnesia would be hindered by a certain awkward soreness for at least the next two days.

Irked by the fact that she'd just addressed him in the same tones she used to order around second rate thugs like Castas and Alama, Bane sneered. "That's not going to be a problem."

Stung, despite herself, she gave a dismissive snort. "You're not that memorable yourself, Bane. Believe me, I've had better."

"Oh, don't worry, I believe you." Smirking, he reached for his hat, which was lying next to an overturned chair, and placed it on his head. "From what I hear, you have quite a basis for comparison."

Aurra's fingers twitched towards her thigh holster, but she suppressed the urge to draw a blaster and decorate the walls with the contents of Bane's cranium. She wasn't about to blow half a million credits just because some Duros bastard implied she was a whore(3). Besides, it wasn't as if he had any room to talk. She at least had never exchanged sexual favours for credits(4). A point that she proceeded to make as snidely as she possibly could.

Bane's response however was almost sanguine.

"Not all of us just give it away, Aurra."

She pursed her lips. "You disgust me."

"That's not what you were screaming five minutes ago."

"I was thinking about Hondo Ohnaka," she snapped.

His smirk intensified. "So was I."

-0-

(1)It should be noted that in this instance 'naked' did not involve the full removal of holsters and blasters; both bounty hunters being of the mind that completely divesting oneself of all items of weaponry would be an act more akin to amputation than undress.

(2)Not to be confused with Knight Dedas Adodo, Padawan Endop Deid or Padawan Mar Kedmahn(2a).

(2a)It should be noted that, following a recent Jedi policy review, Master Terih Bulp Unner has been forced to resign from the Youngling Naming Committee.

(3)Fifty-thousand credits and it would be another matter entirely.

(4)Coaxing Hondo into 'lending' her a star fighter by performing acts she'd previously labelled 'filthy schutta's tricks' didn't count.


	6. Think of the Money (Aurra/Cad)

**Title:** Think of the Money

 **Summary:** Cad Bane always said that he'd do anything for the right price, but right now he's starting to wonder if he's finally found his limit. Yes folks, it's the requisite 'characters obliged to infiltrate an S &M club' ficlet featuring Cad, Aurra and a couple of notable guests.

 **Pairing:** Aurra Sing/Cad Bane, implied Hondo/Aurra/Cad

**-o0O0o-**

_One-million credits on completion. One-million credits on completion._

It was a mantra that Cad Bane had been repeating to himself on and off for the past half-hour: a refrain that he hoped would keep him from snapping a certain white neck until after Tarcamun Pheebary and his inner circle had been completely exterminated.

He had often bragged that he'd do anything for the right price. However, he was starting to wonder if he'd finally found his limit, here on the floor of the Blue Diamond Dungeon, being used as a footrest by a junior colleague.

"Well?" he hissed through clenched teeth, twisting his head to look up into the smirking face of Aurra Sing. 

Left hand clasping her antenna earpiece, she shook her head. "Not yet," she mouthed. Then, with an evil little smile, she teasingly ran the tip of the Rodian riding crop she held in her right hand along the small of his back, before giving him a short, sharp thwack.

Successfully overriding the urge to wince, he flashed her a snarl. "Remember what you're here for, Sing."

"You told me to make it convincing," she murmured in retort. 

This, alas, was true. He'd known he'd need a top class markswoman for this job: someone who could take out ten heavily armed lackeys in less than fifteen shots. He'd also known that the antenna, with its ability to pick up and decrypt long range signals(1), would be useful. What he hadn't quite foreseen was the enthusiasm with which she'd take to the role that the employer had instructed her to play.

On reflection, the fact that she was already in possession of most of the necessary paraphernalia should have clued him in.

Bane himself hadn't quite understood why the aforementioned employer had specifically dictated that they infiltrate the infamous Blue Diamond Dungeon disguised as patrons and take out Pheebary and his acolytes once inside. To his mind the best course of action would have been to bomb the place, or slip in through the back, shoot the guards and lie in wait for the marks. It wasn't as though the security wasn't anything special. But the employer had given a long, rambling and rather nonsensical explanation about wanting to keep the club itself intact and the staff mostly unharmed, before offering to increase the fee(2). 

Another thwack. This time however there was nothing teasing about it.

"What is it?" he demanded, voice low and extremely irritated. When this was over he was going to take that damned crop, put her over his knee and thrash her pale ass so hard she wouldn't be able to sit down for a week without the liberal application of bacta. 

"They've been delayed by an hour," she replied, now looking slightly irked herself. "Pheebary's right hand man called in to say there's been an unexpected customs inspection. One of their import vessels was impounded."

Inwardly cursing, Bane glared around the room. There were Dugs being flogged, Rodians being whipped, Twi'Leks branding Zabracks... the usual tedious stuff for this kind of establishment. What did strike him as interesting however was the proliferation of pale women with top-knots and faux antenna and Duros in dusters and wide brimmed hats. Clearly that raid on the Senate had had a much deeper impact on the psyche of the galactic fetish scene than he'd previously imagined.

He was about to order Sing to hand him the earpiece when he saw something that caused him to stare in bafflement. 

The Jedi Obi Wan Kenobi: bound, gagged and being led about on a leash. 

For an instant, a mere split second, their eyes met. However, it was enough for a moment of extraordinarily succinct wordless communication to pass between them.

_In any other situation I'd be trying to kill or apprehend you; but right here, right now, let's just pretend that we haven't seen each other._

He felt Aurra's legs tense. For a moment, he assumed that she'd spotted and identified the Jedi. A glance up at her face however showed that she was looking elsewhere... at a patron dressed up as a Weequay pirate captain.

No, hang on a minutes, that _was_ a Weequay pirate captain. And he appeared to be in the company of two faux-Aurras and one imitation Bane.

"That bastard," she hissed indignantly. 

Bane snorted, a warm sense of schadenfreud at once softening his mood. "Calm down. The last thing we need is Ohnaka coming over here."

It was her turn to snarl. It was, as snarls went, fairly impressive. Many a lesser man would have fled from in it terror. Bane however was completely unaffected.

"Think of the money," he advised.

She scowled, tossed her hair in annoyance and then slumped back in her leather chair. 

Then twenty seconds later, he heard her start to mutter.

" _Two-hundred thousand credits on completion, Two-hundred thousand credits on completion._ "

Bane's mouth curved upwards. Perhaps things weren't so bad after all.

-0-

(1)A feature that Aurra frequently used to pick up military messages, local law enforcements transmissions, private holocalls and low budget soap operas(1a).

(1a)She couldn't wait to catch up with the last few episodes of _The Decadent and the Dutiful_ and find out whether Lutt was really the father of Xilly's child, or if the handsome Nautolan bartender was to blame. Though, truth be told, she was quite put out by the fact that Palvina had agreed to assassinate her uncle's business rival for a measly one thousand credits. She'd thought that the character had more self-respect than that.

(2)This was the third job he'd done for Miss Uberwald and he was starting the see a pattern. The one on Malastare had started with him and Aurra being obliged to perform in _Madam Ryloth's Scandalous Twi'Lek Drag Cabaret_. The one to assassinate the Head of Misanthrotech Systems meanwhile had finished with him drunk and pantsless on Florrum(2a).

(2a)Though to be fair drunkeness seemed to be the natural state of almost all sentient beings of Florrum.


	7. Hondo's Predicament (Hondo Ohnaka/Cad Bane, Hondo Ohnaka/Aurra Sing)

**Title:** Hondo's Predicament

**Summary:** Hondo lives dangerously

**Pairing:** Hondo Ohnaka/Cad Bane, Hondo Ohnaka/Aurra Sing

**-o0O0o-**

There were, Hondo knew, certain scenarios in which all the charisma and roguish charm in the galaxy would never be quite enough to diffuse the inherent awkwardness of the situation.

Having your ex-lover(1) barge into the room while you were enthusiastically pounding into her most infamous colleague/rival was most definitely one of them.

"Aurra!" he exclaimed, briefly wondering whether he should extract himself from the Duros or not. Politeness would seem to say yes. Practicality would seem to say: 'For Quay's sake don't give her a target'. He went with practicality.

"What's she doing here?" Bane muttered seemingly unfazed by the interruption. Hondo wasn't entirely certain if this impressive indifference was the result of natural cool or poor alcohol tolerance, but right now he envied it.

Wordlessly she stared first at Hondo and then at Bane.

"Aurra, I...." 

She switched the full force of her glare back to Hondo. As Aurra's glares went however this was not, surprisingly, one of the more potent. In fact, if anything, she looked sulky and slightly hurt.

"Bane? Of all people you had to go and screw Bane?"

Hondo made a helpless 'what else could I do' sort of gesture. "You've screwed him to," he protested.

"Not while you were on the same planet," she shot back, sounding almost self-righteous.

Then, her expression softening to a half-glower half-pout, she looked him directly in the eye. "Is this because I never let you stick it up my ass?"

-0-

(1)It should be noted that in Hondo and Aurra's case 'ex' did not imply 'together no more' so much as 'situation flexible if sometimes volatile'.


	8. Overheard on Florrum (Hondo/Aurra/Cad)

**Title:** Overheard on Florrum

**Summary:** Bossk is going to need therapy after this one.

**Pairing:** Hondo/Aurra/Cad 

**-o0O0o-**

As Bossk listened to the grunts, groans and curses coming from the floor above, he couldn't help but find himself just a little unsettled by what he was hearing. He knew that humanoids were a little odd when it came to certain biological imperatives, but surely there were limits.

"Idiots! You can't shove both of them in at same time, they won't fit," came the (somewhat pained) voice of Aurra Sing.

"Stop whining, Sing. It's not as tight in there as you think it is." It was a male voice. Bane's.

"Perhaps, we could try easing in gently." Ohnaka was clearly trying to sound soothing.

Aurra however was having none of it. "Hondo, I'm not standing here like this all day just so you and Bane can fiddle about down there with those oversized tools. We've been trying this for hours and it's still not working."

A sigh. Ohnaka's. "Maybe we should take a break... try looking at the manual again."

"We already tried the manual, Ohnaka. It's written for Wookiees and Mon Cals only."

Bossks eyes widened. Even in his most disturbing and twisted imaginings it would never have dawned on him that Wookiees and Mon Calamari would... well, do that.

"This is getting very uncomfortable." It was clear that Aurra was talking through clenched teeth.

"I told you to stop whining. Look Ohnaka, there's no point being delicate about this: you come in from the front, I'll come in from the back. Once we have both rods fixed in place it'll all hold together"

There was a squeal, a crash and a dull crack that sounded suspiciously like a neck being snapped. Then there were several seconds of silence. Silence that was ended by the sound of Hondo Ohnaka clearing his throat.

"Well, it could have gone better."

There was a loud and distinctly irritated snort. Bossk immediately recognised it as originating from Aurra.

"That," she declared, "is the last time I help either of you put flat pack furniture together."


	9. Once More, For Old Time's Sake (Hondo Ohnaka/Aurra Sing)

**Title:** Once More, For Old Time's Sake 

**Summary:** She's trouble on two long, pale legs and this time Hondo's determined to send her packing.

**Pairing:** Hondo Ohnaka/Aurra Sing

**-o0O0o-**

He caught her scent as soon as he stepped out into the corridor.

Blaster smoke, blood and an odd but very appealing mix of pheromones.

Hondo groaned. He'd told her not to come back here. That she'd finally gone too far. That if she ever set foot on the planet again he'd have her shot on sight.

He'd meant it too. Every word.

As usual however she hadn't listened.

With a sense of resignation he headed towards his quarters. He knew what – or rather who – he'd find in there. The scent was getting stronger by the second and it made his head swim(1) with memories of violence, danger and long pale legs wrapped around his hips.

Well, those legs could be as long, pale and supple as they wanted. This time he was going to be ruthless. This time he was going to march straight into his quarters and put a blaster bolt squarely between her... No, no, he wasn't going to go quite that far. And besides, she was too quick a target for him to hit when he was stone cold sober(2). In his current state he'd just end up scorching the walls and destroying up his hard won loot. The best course of action would be to simply go in, remind her that she was a still a persona non grata on Florrum and order her off the planet.

Yes, that was exactly what he was going to do.

Straightening up and adopting pose that in his opinion said: forthright, alpha male who is not to be argued with(3), he hit the door release, strode in and... came to an immediate standstill.

She was in his bed, head propped up on her right elbow, looking for all the galaxy as if she had a perfect right to be there.

"Hondo?" Her voice was sleepy and sultry, but there was a challenge there too; as if she was defying him to make good on the threats he'd made last time they'd parted. 

"I thought I told you to stay away," he said, congratulating himself on the firmness of his tone. Yes, she could look as pouty and moist-lipped as she liked. Hondo Ohnaka wasn't going to be taken in this time.

"That was months ago." She shifted about a little, the bed sheet slipping just enough to let her left nipple peek out at him.

He swallowed, unable to keep himself from staring. Unable to stop himself experiencing that treacherous surge of smugness he got from being able to openly ogle her breasts like an oversexed idiot without suffering actual bodily harm.

It wasn't fair. It really wasn't.

"You nearly killed me," he said. This time however the words didn't come out quite as forcefully as he'd have liked.

"No I didn't," she scoffed.

This blatant untruth was enough to snap him back to a state of justified irritation. "What do you mean: you didn't nearly kill me? You shot two slugs straight through my chest."

She rolled her eyes. "I had to shoot through you to hit the mark. I was careful. I avoided all your major organs, didn't I?"

This, he had to admit, was true. Neither of the shots had been potentially life threatening. He also had to admit that she was probably good enough with projectiles to purposefully avoid a fatal shot at mid range. But ballistics were never as predictable as blasters and Aurra's overconfidence in her own abilities was something he was all too familiar with.

"That might be the case. Might be. But it doesn't change the fact that you're more trouble than I can handle. The last time you were here, you shot me. The time before that you destroyed the star fighter I'd just stolen and...."

"....the time before that, you ended up richer by half a million credits."

"That's not the point," he said. The point however suddenly eluded him as she kicked back the bedclothes to reveal that she was – with the exception of a single thigh holster – as naked from the waist down as she was from the waist up. This however was not all that was revealed. No, clasped in her left hand was a metallic object.

It was a Jedi's lightsaber... and she was rubbing it up and down her thigh in the most provocative manner imaginable.

The most rational, sensible thing to do at this juncture would, he knew, be to make inquiries as to which Jedi the lightsaber had come from and whether it was an indicator that other Jedi were hot on her trail. However, the words just didn't form in this mouth. The way she was moving and... Ugh, for Quay's sake, she looks like she's going to...

Stay strong. He told himself. There are plenty of less dangerous women who could be made up to look like her and given a replica lightsaber. Perhaps you can even find a accommodating Clawdite. It was no good though. The fact was that danger was all part of the appeal, and right now his resolve was softening in direct proportion to the degree which other parts of him were hardening.

"Well?" she said, flashing a half-smile, half-smirk.

He groaned.

Maybe... Maybe... Okay, one last time for old time's sake. And then that'd be it.

Until the next time 

-0-

(1)After several pints of Antrillian Mind Mist(1a) his head was already doing quite enough of this as it was.

(1a)This particular libation was customarily served by the thimbleful(1b). However, the members of the Ohnaka Gang were of the mind that if your goblet wasn't full to the brim some bastard was stealing your share of the liquor.

(1b)... and in some of the more conscientious taverns only after the drinker had signed a waiver to say that they fully understood the risks that they were taking and would not – in the highly likely event of accident, injury or death – hold the establishment in any way responsible.

(2)A state he tried avoid as much as he could preferring instead to remain 'functionally drunk' whenever possible.

(3)...but in the minds of most shouted: inebriated alpha male who is struggling to maintain his balance.


	10. Interspecies Pillow Fight (Hondo/Aurra/Cad)

**Title:** Interspecies Pillow Fight

**Summary:** It's good to be Hondo.

**Pairing:** Hondo/Aurra/Cad

**-o0O0o-**

He'd caught their intermingling scents as soon as he'd stepped into the building.

It was a surprise to say the least. Although not, perhaps, an entirely unpleasant one. Aurra, he knew about, she'd landed three miles outside the compound just over an hour ago. But Bane! He hadn't even known Bane was on the planet.

He shook his head. Durn had obviously bribed Blind Gaffor to cover for him at the base's monitoring station again. He was going to have to have words.

For now though, he was curious. The presence of the two bounty hunters could mean only one of two things. One, that Count Dooku or another former guest had hired them to bring them Hondo's corpse; or two, that they had a proposition for him. The first possibility, he discounted. If Aurra was going to try and claim the price on his head, she wouldn't want to split the fee with Bane. He suspected that Bane would be of the same mind. The second possibility however was intriguing. 

Getting involved in Aurra's schemes seemed to lead to either a spectacularly large haul of loot or a spectacularly large headache. The trouble was that you could never quite be certain which it would be beforehand. Bane on the other hand seemed to be a somewhat better planner(1). If they were working together then perhaps whatever they were proposing would be of interest. 

Either way, there probably wouldn't be any harm in hearing them out.

As he approach the door to his quarters however, he became aware that sounds emanating from inside were not those of a professional discussion, but those of a violent row.

_"Get the hell out of my way, you blue bastard. I was here before you."_

_"What's wrong, Sing? Throwing a tantrum because I can do this shtick better that you?"_

_"Keep telling yourself that."_

_"Touchy aren't you."_

There was a thud, followed by scuffling.

_"Manwhore!"_

_"Cheap slut!"_

The sound of cloth ripping.

_"I had him first."_

_"And I had him last."_

Ego (and other things) swelling by the second, Hondo considered standing outside and listening to this _fascinating_ fight. Then a loud clatter reminded him that he had a lot of loot in there. A lot of valuable, hard-stolen, antique loot.

He hit the door release.

For a few second, it was impossible to see anything with any clarity. The air was too full of fluffy white feathers. Then as the down settled, he was able to take in a sight that would stay with him for the rest of his natural life.

Two mostly naked bounty hunters wrestling in the wreckage of his bedding.

Hondo grinned. 

Most beings only got to witness sights like this on grainy bootlegged holos.

-0-

(1) Aurra's idea of a contingency could all too often be encapsulated by the phrase 'just wing it'. Most of the time, it worked. The rest... well, there was a reason only the very foolhardy and the very cash-strapped(1a) signed up to work under her command.

(1a)... and in a younger Hondo Ohnaka's case the very horny.


	11. Be Careful What You Wish For (Hondo/Aurra/Cad)

**Title:** Be Careful What You Wish For

**Summary:** For the first time in his life Hondo wishes that he'd paid heed to his father.

**Pairing:** Hondo/Aurra/Cad

**-o0O0o-**

He should have been relaxing, basking in the glow of his conquest.

Hondo Ohnaka had managed to do something many thought impossible(1). With the use of nothing more than charisma, flattery and five bottles of vintage spice wine he had managed to seduce the known galaxy's two most ruthless bounty hunters into performing acts of utter debauchery with both himself and each other. 

Yes, right now he should have been feeling pretty damned smug.

Alas, all he presently felt was deeply uncomfortable. 

He had Bane lying unconscious on his (now completely numb) right arm, face buried in his neck. This would not, in itself, have been so bad if he didn't also have Aurra lying on his left hand, that damnable antenna threatening to poke him in the nostril each time she shifted in her sleep.

He'd tried to move. Tried to nudge and then shove them aside, but each attempt had ended with him further pinned. For some reason both of them seemed heavier now that they were naked and unconscious than they had been when clothed, awake and loaded down with fifty pounds of weaponry.

Then they'd started snore: Bane rumbling like a piece of ancient agricultural machinery, Aurra snuffling like a bad tempered Gammorean whelp.

He groaned, the single semi-lucid piece of advice his father had imparted to him resounding in his mind.

_'Hondo, my son, always remember that if you're going to pull a grand slam with co-conspirators you need to know where all the bodies are going to go afterwards... Now, where's my ale?'_

It was true. It was wisdom itself. If only he hadn't written it off as the deluded ramblings of a spice-addled conman. 

-0-

(1)If, at least, the Ohnaka Gang betting pool was anything to go by.


	12. Hondo versus The Book (Hondo/Aurra/Cad)

**Title:** Hondo versus The Book

 **Summary:** Hondo's got a devious plan. Unfortunately for Hondo, Cad and Aurra have reading material.

 **Pairing:** Hondo/Aurra/Cad

**-o0O0o-**

"So, it seems that the three of us are going to be trapped alone together in this cold, empty place for the next three days... how _are_ we going to amuse ourselves?" As he spoke the words Hondo grinned. It's was brilliant. It was perfect. It was the best scheme he'd had since the Lost Nebula Station job. 

From the bounty hunters point of view there would seem to be no logical reason not to use the abandoned bunker as a meeting place. It was secluded and out of the way enough for a clandestine gathering to remain, well, _clandestine_ without being too inconveniently situated. 

Of course, if one knew about the Class 4 meteor storm that was about to hit then it started to seem a damned sight less convenient; but the fact that neither of Hondo's companions had raised any objection suggested that they did not.

Yes, this had been a stroke of genius alright. And he was sure that once his two favourites would be amenable to all the fun activities he had planned, once they'd got over their irritation and boredom had set in. He'd even brought a few bottles of spiced wine to help break the ice.

The reactions of the two bounty hunters were not however what he'd expected. He'd anticipated some initial antagonism; acute annoyance on Aurra's part and disgruntlement on Bane's. However, neither seemed particularly troubled by the situation. If anything they both looked rather cheerful. It was perplexing... and somehow just a little worrying.

"Looks like I'll have time to catch up on some reading," said Aurra, voice disconcertingly breezy, as she set the pack she was carrying down on the metal floor.

"Same here," Bane assented, taking a datapad from the pocket of his duster.

"Reading?" Now that wasn't something he'd expected. He hadn't counted on either of them bringing their own entertainment. Still, he was sure that it would only be a temporary hitch. As far as he knew, Aurra's recreational reading material was limited to periodicals with names such as _Blasters & Ammo_(1) and low brow bodice rippers(2). He could only imagine that Bane's literary interests were even less diverse. "What is it?"

"Memoirs of Jemuru the Head Taker," supplied Bane. "Whiphid bounty hunter from way back. Two thousand successful hunts to his name, if you believe the legends." Bane's tone suggested that he himself didn't buy it, but he still sounded slightly impressed by this Jemuru character.

"Sounds fascinating," muttered Hondo in a way that made it clear that he found it anything but.

"It wouldn't mean much to you," said Aurra. "But he had some interesting points to make about the life of a true hunter."

Time, Hondo thought, to break out a bottle. "What kind of points?" 

"The importance of sobriety for one," said Bane.

Hondo made a face.

"And the considerable benefits of celibacy," added Aurra.

If it had been possible for Weequay to blanch, he would at this point have given her a run for her money in the paleness stakes.

"It makes a whole lot of sense too, when you think about it," Bane went on. "You take all that pent up energy and drive it back into the job."

Had he been paying close attention to the two bounty hunters, Hondo would have doubtless noticed the smirk that passed between them. 

Alas, he found himself quite unable to do anything but slump against the wall in despair.

Cockblocked by a dead Whiphid! Life was just too cruel

-0-

(1)Though she shunned _What Blaster_ and _Slug Thrower World_ on the grounds that they were for hobbyists and amateurs.

(2)Which she encrypted and hid under filenames such as _Ventilation Plan 627_ and _Kill List (revised)_.


	13. Bodyshock (Hondo/Aurra/Cad)

Cad Bane watched his body pace around the room.

He was trying not to dwell on how heavy and cumbersome and just plain wrong his limbs felt. It was infuriating. Debilitating. Inescapable.

How the hell did Ohnaka manage to live in this lumbering frame?

Still, at least he was managing to stay reasonably cool, unlike the seething being currently inhabiting his own form.

"Get a grip, Sing," he said, before recoiling at way the words came out of Hondo's mouth. It wasn't Hondo's voice that he spoke with, but it wasn't it his own either.

"Get a grip?" Even through Bane's partially mechanised vocal system the voice was still discernibly Aurra's. She – and he could not help but still think of her as a she despite the body that she was wearing – turned angrily upon him, glaring with his own red eyes. "Keep smirking like that and I'll get a grip on your throat."

Having tried and failed to throttle Ohnaka with his own bare hands on two previous occasions, Bane was not in any way worried by this threat. Aurra was admittedly doing better at manoeuvring his body around than he was Hondo's, but her movements were still rather forced and jerky.

"Look, the natives say that it'll wear off within the day(1). All we need to do sit tight and wait it out."

"And you believe them?"

He shrugged; a rolling gesture that momentarily put him off balance. "If it doesn't then we can always break some heads." He was certain that breaking heads was something that he could do in this form. If that was, he could just get the hang of walking in a straight line.

Bane watched as his mouth pursed in a decidedly feminine manner. He found it comical yet ever so slightly alluring.

_Kark it, I've picked up the bastard's oversized libido as well as his oversized limbs._

Aurra for her part continued to pace. She hated this, it was so... so demeaning. The loss of agility she could handle. The diminishment of spatial awareness she could live with. Hell, given enough time she could probably even learn to accept the breathing tubes. But the anatomical addition between her legs was too much. It was uncomfortable, intrusive and – worst of all – it seemed to have a life of its own. The way that it reacted to Hondo's body was, she supposed, only to be expected. Unseemly but understandable given their long and eventful history. Far more disturbing was it's rather vigorous reaction to the sight of her own body, currently being possessed by her ex lover.... Her ex-lover who was presently gawping at his... HER naked form in the room's single full length mirror.

"HONDO PUT MY CLOTHES BACK ON NOW."

Hondo looked at her and grinned, before going back to toying with his... HER tits. Initially the most distraught at their predicament, Hondo had – since being assured that he would return to his own body very soon – been acting like a kid who'd been given the keys to the candy shop.

"Ah, but these things are so much fun. I could stand here playing with them all day. And look... look at this...." He contorted her limbs into an unusual and strikingly provocative position. "How do ever you manage to get anything done?"

Aurra, having previously assumed herself to be a lifelong heterosexual, was highly disconcerted to find herself ogling her own ass.

It was one thing to look in the mirror and think yourself hot stuff. It was quite another to experience the desire to bang yourself into next week. 

"Watch it Ohnaka, she's fully loaded." Bane smirked, eyes fixed on his own crotch. He almost felt sorry for Aurra. She had no idea how to exercise any kind control over this sort of thing. Mind you, he himself wasn't entirely unaffected. The thoroughly slutty things Ohnaka was doing with Aurra's body coupled with the furious stance Aurra was adopting in his own, were having a profound effect on certain over-sized parts of Bane's borrowed anatomy

Hondo leered first at Bane and then at Aurra. It was an expression that looked even more perverted on her face than it did on the pirate's. "You know, Aurra, now that I look at myself from this angle, I can quite see what you see in me."

Snarling a way that went right to Bane's (or rather Hondo's) dick, she began to stalk towards herself.

Quite unperturbed by this, Ohnaka ran a set of freakishly long fingers along Aurra's thigh. "Perhaps we could all pass the time by having some fun."

"Fun!" Aurra practically spat out the word. "Oh believe me, I'll show you fun. I'll show you so much fun you won't be able to sit for a week."

Snorting, Bane suppressed the urge to point out that it would be she herself who would not be able to sit down for a week.

This was indeed going to be fun.

*Six weeks later*

"What the kark is that?" Bane, happily restored to his own body, eyed the mess on Aurra's lunch plate with open disgust.

"Raw nerf chunks in bantha milk and silverberry syrup. I've been having the strangest craving for it all day."

"You... have?"

She nodded. "Well, I was sick this morning, but I've been ravenous ever since."

Horrified at the implication, Bane gaped, paled to a light shade of turquoise and fled from the bar room muttering something about having to pay an urgent visit to his second cousin on Nar Shaddaa.

A few moments after he'd departed she pushed the unpleasant mush away and smirked at Hondo, who had been watching the scene with no small amount of amusement.

"That, my dear, was a very evil thing to do."

"He asked for it."

"He did?" Hondo looked perplexed.

She nodded. "He shouldn't have laughed every time I winced."

-0-

(1)The inhabitants of Ruralis VI were more than used to thoughtless visitors tramping through the sacred river of Klondarismiara(1a) despite the numerous helpful – and graphically illustrative – warning signs that lined the banks.

(1a)Literal translation: The Merry Stream of Most Wonderful and Amusing Japes.


	14. The Pursuit of a Good Night's Sleep (Hondo/Aurra, Hondo/Cad)

"Aurra.... _Aurra_."

Wretched from sleep by a series of insistent prods and nudges, Aurra Sing awoke to find a very aroused Weequay pirate captain pressed flush against her back.

"I'm not in the mood," she grunted, wishing that she hadn't accepted Hondo's invitation to share his bed. Oh sure, it was the comfiest place to lie down on Florrum... and she had enjoyed screwing him the first two times. But there came a point when a woman just wanted a few hours rest.

Rough fingers slid between her legs.

Snarling, she elbowed him in the chest. "I don't want you to put me in the mood either."

The hand retreated and Hondo gave forlorn sigh. "Ah Aurra, you're too unkind. You lie there all naked and inviting and then tell me not to touch."

"I'm trying to sleep." Had she still been wearing her customary thigh holster she would have drawn a blaster to underscore this point. Alas, both the holster and the blaster had been ruined in the job she and Bane had just completed and so the most she could do was give Hondo a hard shove.

"But if you'd just lie on your back you could sleep and I could—"

"Don't even think about it."

"But—"

"NO!"

He gave another sigh, this one even more forlorn than the first. "You used to be so much more enthusiastic."

"And you used to complain that I was insatiable." Then tired, irritated and really not in the right frame of mind for a debate on the subject of her slightly diminished libido she said something that she knew she was going to live to regret.

"Go and bother Bane instead."

For a few seconds Hondo just stared. Then he grinned, kissed the side of her head in a decidedly sloppy manner and practically jumped out of bed.

"Oh my dear, I knew you'd understand."


	15. Boys and Their Toys (Hondo/Aurra/Cad)

"So, what do you think?"

Bane stared at the small swimming pool that Hondo Ohnaka was referring to as his 'new bathtub'.

The size of the tub was not in itself much of a surprise. While Ohnaka didn't seem like the type to be overly fastidious when it came to matters of personal grooming, he did have an almost childish love of luxury.

No what surprised Bane were the things floating on top of the water.

When the pirate had suggested getting in the bath together, Bane had been just liquored up enough to agree.

When Ohnaka had mentioned that there would be toys, he'd been just clear-headed enough to say that he'd probably be charging for that.

"Well?" Hondo prompted

Bane continued to stare. "Are those things meant be... sailing ships?"

Ohnaka laughed. "Yes my friend, finely crafted and very resilient replicas of the ones in the old Pirates of the Endless Seas holo.... And I don't mind telling you that they were a rare find indeed. That auction house on Boonta didn't know what they had." The pirate's grin widened. "Of course, they didn't have much of anything by the time we'd finished with them."

"And that thing." He pointed at a bright yellow plastic avian that was presently bobbing between two merchant frigates.

"Sadly the auction house didn't have any replicas of the Dread Creature of the Deep. We'll have to make do with Quack. Now, my friend, you can be Gripthroat Blight the Pirate Hunter and I'll be Captain Dakk Swagger."

***Twenty minutes later***

"Didn't see that one coming, did you, Swagger?" Bane crowed as the Rough Diamond capsized.

"The day isn't won yet, Blight. I still have the Merry Jig."

"That little heap of junk."

"She's a better ship than Skull Bringer."

"Say that when you're at the bottom of the ocean."

So enthralled with the mock battle was Bane that he only gave a cursory glance to the female figure that sauntered in through the door. Determining that she didn't pose an immediate threat, he turned his attention back to the Skull Bringer, which was now floating perilously close to Quack: Dread Creature of the Deep.

"Aha, let's see you get out of this one, Blight."

Cursing, Bane tried to create enough disturbance in the water to buffet his flagship away from the Dread Creature.

"I've finished interrogating the prisoners," declared Aurra.

Bane noticed that she appeared to be in the process of undressing, but with his mind almost entirely preoccupied the Battle of the Endless Sea this fact did not strike him as anything that needed to be attended to.

"What did they say?" enquired Hondo, in a slightly distant fashion, his own gaze fixed on the Bane's efforts to save the Skull Bringer from near-certain doom.

"Very little of interest. They were mainly low level agents and support staff. I did manage to get a few security codes from one of them though."

"Good, now we can...." Hondo trailed off as the prow of the Skull Bringer made contact with the Dread Creature. "Oh yes, you see Blight, you can't escape the terror of the Deep once it has you in its sight."

"You're playing with your little boats again, I see." Aurra's tones were testy and more that a little derisive.

Hondo however just smiled at her. "Why don't you get in and play with us?"

For a moment she eyed the scene critically. Then, seeming to come to some kind of conclusion, she glared at Hondo.

"Fine. But this time I'm not being the stupid naval officer.... And if you even think about using my breasts as a geological feature again, I'll smash your entire fleet to pieces."


	16. Let Them Eat Cake (Hondo/Cad)

"Look, it's simple. You two will be inside the cake. On my cue you'll burst out of the cake and follow the instructions in Diagram C."

Bane looked at the datapad on which Diagram C was currently displayed. To his mind it was not so much a diagram as a set of obscene and slightly malformed stick figure drawings.

"You want us to lick icing off each another?"

Aurra nodded, as if this was the most normal, sane and rational activity a bounty hunter and a pirate could ever hope to engage in. "It's what the client wants."

"I'm still in," said Hondo grinning from ear to ear. As far as he was concerned this was one of the best propositions Aurra had ever made.

"Well?" she looked at Bane.

He glowered. "So we're talking big money here?"

"Three-hundred thousand credits. That's one-hundred thousand each."

"Each?" The glower intensified. "What makes you think that you'll be taking an equal cut? You're not going to be performing in front of a live audience."

"Think of it as my pim— director's fee. Besides, I'll be the one singing the traditional birthday song as the cake's wheeled in."

"Better find some earplugs, my friend," Hondo muttered, nudging Bane with his arm.

"I heard that," Aurra snapped. "Now get those clothes off. I want to do a trial run before the event."

"Just one question," said Hondo. "If we're inside the cake and you're singing the birthday song in here, who's going to wheel us in?"

"The cook, of course." She inclined her head towards the banqueting room's kitchen entrance.

For a few seconds there was nothing there, just a rather unsanitary wheezing and hacking sound emanating from somewhere behind the archway. Then a figure emerged. A huge, hulking cybernetic creature with a many limbs, many lightsabers and... a dainty white apron.

"He's... the cook?" Hondo stared opened mouthed, as General Grievous: Leader of the Droid Armies, Destroyer of Worlds, Terror of the Galaxy and part-time pastry chef glared at the three mercenaries.

_"WHAT? DO YOU THINK THAT DOOKU ACTUALLY PAYS ME A LIVING WAGE?"_


	17. Birthday Surprise (Hondo/Cad)

They'd forgotten.

Not one of them had remembered.

Granted, Weequay did not traditionally go in for birthday celebrations. But the Ohnaka Gang weren't just some bunch of parochials who'd never set foot off Sriluur. They'd seen enough of the galaxy to know that birthdays ought to be accompanied by presents. And besides, the gang wasn't solely comprised of Weequay. Surely one of the Bith amongst them could have said something.

Alas, all he'd received was a half-consumed bottle of spice-laced liquor from Pilf Muk Muk and a begging letter from his cousin Krund.

Dispirited and gloomy Hondo headed towards his quarters, a now four-fifths consumed bottle of spiced-laced liquor in hand. It wouldn't have been quite so bad if the captain of the merchant cruiser they'd been planning to board hadn't decided to self-immolate rather that submit to being robbed blind and ransomed back to his guild. Hondo had been looking forward to getting his hands on the ground assault vehicles the cruiser had been smuggling.

He shook his head. Some beings were just too jittery for their own good. It wasn't as if he'd even been planning to torture anyone.

Ah well, such was life. He'd doubtless feel better after a re-watch of his favourite Pirate's of the Endless Sea holo and a good night's rest.

Reaching his door, he keyed in his passcode, hit the release and walked in...

...to be greeted by an image that made him wonder if he was sleepwalking: the sight of a mostly-naked blue body arranged artfully on his bed.

Eyes widening, he took ine the hat, the boots, the blasters and the bright red bow tied around the Duros' dick.

"What... how...." He trailed off, experiencing a moment of confusion and disorientation as blowflow was redirected from his primary cortical systems to his 'other head'.

Bane smirked and flicked a small square of card in his direction.

Catching it, Hondo saw that it was a gift tag with a picture of an antique Correlian vessel on one side and a poorly spelt handwritten message on the other.

Boss,

Don' say we nevar get yew nuffing.

The Crew.

Hondo grinned. This was the best birthday ever.


	18. Birthday Blues (Hondo/Cad)

t was raining when he entered the tavern.

It was still raining when he left it two hours later.

Devira II had had a functioning weathernet once, but time, economic downturn and a few inconvenient satellite collisions meant that the planet's southern hemisphere veered between unbearably hot and miserably wet with little letup in between. On the whole Bane preferred the latter. When it was raining the stench from Downstream City's main harbour was only moderately nauseating.

Still, it was a miserable night. He'd gone out with the express intention of getting merrily shitfaced and screwing some nubile Twi'lek with big tits, but the bars were boring and the brothels looked about as inviting as a weekend on Hoth.

"Happy karking birthday," he muttered to himself, as he headed along the walkway that wound its way through the city's main red light district. How many years was it now...? On seconds thoughts it was probably best not to dwell on that. He was currently experiencing the ennui that came from being under-occupied, under the weather and not nearly drunk enough. Downstream City had seemed like a good spot to stay under the radar until he'd fully recovered from the particularly nasty bout of Gammorean flu he'd just endured: the place was a heaving, seething mass of eight million undocumented sentients. A being with enough credits and enough sense not to flaunt them could easily fade away into that mass. Of course, the trouble with laying low in Downstream City was the fact that one actually had to stay there. Like Nar Shaddaa and lower level Coruscant it was utterly squalid. Unlike either of those places however it was also unremittingly dull.

Dullest of all were the city's inhabitants.

It wasn't as if he'd gone out seeking company (apart that was from the aforementioned nubile Twi'lek with big tits... but he hadn't been planning on actually conversing with her). He was an antisocial loner and damned proud of it. It was just that sometimes one wished to be an antisocial loner in the presence of beings whose topics of conversation were not limited to the weather, the recent surge in vermin infestations and whether Senator Expen Dee Bell's mistress would be forced to testify at his upcoming trial for corruption and embezzlement.

It was almost enough to make him wish for the sight of a fellow professional. Sing was sadistic bitch with a superiority complex, Alama was a hired thug with delusions of adequacy, Robonino was a nasty little bubblebrained voyeur and Bossk had some really disgusting eating habits, but at least none of them were boring. Hell, right now he'd probably be willing to entertain the thought of spending time in the presence of....

Hondo Ohnaka!

The surprise of seeing the pirate captain stepping out of an exceptionally sleazy looking establishment accompanied by several members of his gang was very nearly enough to cause him to come to an immediate halt... Nearly. You didn't get to be the galaxy's number one bounty hunter without developing the ability to suppress your natural 'stop and gawp' response.

Instinct prompted him to quickly disappear down one of the side streets that branched off from the main strip, but something made him override it. He told himself that the something in question was the possibility that the pirate had information worth knowing, but part of him was aware that he wasn't quite ready to head back to his dingy hotel room alone just yet.

It took a couple of seconds for Ohnaka to notice that he was being watched and another couple to recognise the watcher. Then his face broke out into a huge grin.

Affecting an expression of indifference, the Duros gave a nod of greeting and slowed his pace enough for the pirate to catch up without seeming to rush.

"Bane!" Ohnaka was positively beaming. "What brings you to this cesspit?"

"This and that," he replied, not wishing to elaborate on the subject of his recent brush with infirmity.

"And you're out looking for a little company, eh?" The pirate elbowed him in the ribs and gestured to a gaggle of Duros working girls, who were standing under the tattered awnings of a massage parlour. They looked tired, haggard and surly. Not at all what Bane was after. Besides, he was never particularly happy about the idea of having to pay for sex. It seemed too much like a reversal of the correct order of things.

He shook his head. "Nothing here worth looking at."

Ohnaka laughed. "I hear that the ones in Upstream City are better."

"Maybe, but that place reeks even worse than this one." It was true. While Downstream had its foetid harbours, Upstream had two giant smelting plants and an aged chemical works.

"Well, if none them catch your eye, why not join us for a drink."

Part of Bane knew that the sensible thing would be to decline. There was getting merrily shitfaced and then there was joining Ohnaka for 'a drink'. Last time he'd tried to match Hondo glass for glass he'd... he'd... well, he'd probably never know exactly how his trousers had ended up on the roof of the pirate's base, or for that matter how the lower half of his body had come to be daubed in purple paint. But sensible meant returning alone to the dingy hotel room, with nothing to occupy himself with but a few old holoporn flicks and some basic blaster maintenance. Somehow, right now, that didn't seem entirely preferable.

And thus he found himself being led into a drinking establishment even sleazier than the one he'd just seen Ohnaka exit. Sleazy as it was however, he immediately preferred it to the other dives he'd visit that night. It was noisy, scruffy and splashed with several different kinds of blood (along with a few other bodily fluids it didn't do to dwell upon), but it didn't have the same overwhelming atmosphere of atrophy and inertia the other places had. This was not, he suspected, down to any feature of the bar itself, but rather the result of half of the Ohnaka Gang having taken up temporary residence there.

"So what will it be?" Ohnaka asked, clapping him on the back and leading him to a table in one of the cleaner alcoves. "Retsa, red cloud...?"

"Corellian whiskey," he said, deciding that if Ohnaka was paying (or at least extorting from someone else) he might as well make the most of it.

Gesturing to the harassed looking Rodian bartender, Ohnaka shouted out a command in Huttese. A few moments later the Rodian came scurrying over with two very large bottles of the stuff. Bane's eyes narrowed.

"Trying to get me drunk, Ohnaka?"

The Weequay looked at him with a hurt expression. "Just a small show of my hospitality."

Bane didn't buy that facade of wounded innocence for a second, but it struck him that it would be pointless and churlish to refuse. A few more drinks wouldn't hurt. Hell, he'd planning to hit the bottle anyway.

"If you can pour it, I can take it," he said, already sauced-up just enough to believe this statement.

Ohnaka's grin returned and he began to pour. Bane couldn't help but notice that the glasses were rather bigger than the one's one usually saw spirits served in.

"To friendship," the pirate declared, raising his glass.

Bane did not do 'friendship'. He did 'allies' (always a temporary state). He did 'company'. And very occasionally he did 'valued acquaintance'. But friendship really wasn't his style. Still, he found himself raising his own overfull glass and making a noncommittal noise. As far as company went, Ohnaka wasn't bad. He'd worked with the pirate a few times and hadn't really had much cause for complaint.

"So what're you doing here? This isn't your usual stomping ground."

Ohnaka shook his head and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Garel's company were trying muscle in on my sector. They needed to be taught some manners."

"And have they learnt them?"

The pirate shrugged. "Those that are left."

"And Garel?"

"I wasn't planning to have him killed but...." He made a 'what could I do' sort of gesture.

"But what?"

"He shouldn't have said what he did to Aurra."

"She here?" Bane asked, disconcerted by the thought. Ohnaka probably wouldn't pick up on his weakened state, but Sing would. Ohnaka however shook his head.

"She's gone to have her antenna tuned. There's a woman in Upstream who does it. Sirdan or Sirdia or something."

"Circadia?"

"Yes, that one." Without asking, Ohnaka picked up the bottle and topped up Bane's glass before refilling his own.

"To revenge," Bane said, feeling that it was his turn to make a toast.

"To revenge," Ohnaka repeated, before enthusiastically downing the contents of his glass in one. Not wishing to appear a lightweight, Bane did likewise. Then, suddenly overcome with the urge to assert greater control over the situation, he picked up the bottle and sloshed some more of the contents into their drinking glasses

They drank to 'credits' and then to 'antique starfighters' then 'blasters' then 'bartenders' (after the Rodian arrived to replace the glasses they'd just smashed in their over-enthusiastic toasting) then 'monkey lizards' (after one ran off with the bartender's tray).

"So... so it's ma birthday, 'n I was looking for Twi'lek with... with big...." He lewdly pantomimed large breasts. "Couldn't find one though. No broads worth...." He made an even lewder pantomime. "Damn place's a dump."

Hondo – and he was for some reason now thinking of him as Hondo rather than Ohnaka – regarded him with a touchingly sympathetic expression. The fact that he could now see two Hondo's just made it more touchingly sympathetic.

"Birthday! How old?"

Hard as he tried he found that couldn't quite recall the specifics. "Four... forty- somethin'...er, got a four in it. Damn stupid tings... no presents either...."

Hondo seemed to ponder this for a while. "But I could give you a present."

"You'd do that... for me?" What remained of the rational part of his brain screamed at him to ask what the catch was, but it was quickly overruled by the parts that were experiencing drunken, hazy feelings of inexplicable good will towards the pirate.

"Of course, of course." Hondo smiled, clapped an arm around his shoulders and proceeded to declared him to be his favouritist blue person in the whole galaxy.

"Tha's good of you... real good."

Then the pirate looked at him in a way that sent a sudden wave of heat surging down through his lower belly.

So that was it.

In the drunken fog that was Bane's mind a ray of clarity suddenly sprang into being. He remembered now. He remembered all of it. This was how it had started. This was how he'd ended up pantless on Florrum the last time.

For some reason though, he found he didn't care.


	19. First Encounter (Hondo/Aurra)

She wasn't entirely certain what had happened.

One moment she'd been trying to kill him (a perfectly natural and respectable response to having a bunch of idiot Weequay pirates ruin three weeks of careful planning by boarding the freighter you'd stowed away on). The next she'd been straddling his lap, bucking and writhing for all it was worth.

And now... now she was in the extremely awkward position of being mostly naked, slightly dazed and snuggled up against a man who by rights should have already been dead by her hand.

"Pretty," he murmured, cupping a breast with one hand while the other ran up and down her back.

"You cost me a fortune," she snarled, or at least tried to snarl. When the words left her mouth it sounded more like a breathy grumble.

"So you said." He sounded amused.

"That freighter was my ticket through MisanthroTech security." There were other ways to do it, of course, but they were time consuming; and with Bane racing her toward the mark there'd be no point. Hell, the blue bastard had probably already taken out the entire board of directors.

He chuckled. "But this is much more fun."

"I could kill you."

An arm tightened around her waist. "Perhaps, if you were very lucky. But I wouldn't make it easy. And then you'd have to get past all of my men."

Looking at his expression she could tell that he wasn't worried. He either thought that she wouldn't do it or – even more insultingly – thought that he could take her on and win.

"Ah my dear, don't look at me like that," he said. "I'm sure I can find something profitable for you to shoot."

She considered this. She did not, she had to admit, feel much like fighting him to the death and then trying her luck at blasting her way through the rest of his gang at the moment. She felt tired, languid and – if truth were told – rather comfortable where she was.

"Fine, but when you say profitable, you better mean six figures or more."

He grinned. "Of course, of course."

She took another good look at him. Weequay were not as a general rule species that she'd found particularly attractive; but there was something about this one that did things to her. 

"What's your name, anyway?" she asked, managing not to betray the mild embarrassment she felt about not acquiring this information prior to screwing him.

"Hondo. Hondo Ohnaka."

The right side of her mouth quirked upwards into a half smile. So this was the one who'd ruined Porla the Hutt. She liked him better already.

"I'm—"

"I know who you are," he said, caressing her face. "I've got all of your posters on my wall."

"Posters?"

He grinned again, this time is a thoroughly besotted manner. "Wanted: Eighty-seven thousand credits is my favourite."


	20. Dating the Hondo Ohnaka Way (Hondo/Cad)

"...so we'd be talking about two million credits worth of gems split thirty-seventy. What do you say?"

Ohnaka gave a regretful sigh. "I'm sorry my friend, but I have business to attend to this week. Important business."

"You have?" Bane frowned, he hadn't known the Ohnaka Gang were planning a big job. His regular information sources clearly weren't pulling their weight.

"Yes, my promotional tour."

"Promotional tour?" Bane repeated the words as if they came from some incomprehensible ancient Huttese dialect.

"For my book."

At this Bane merely stared. The words 'Hondo Ohnaka' and 'published author' just didn't go together.

"Yes, my friend, I've written something that will help billions of beings across the galaxy find happiness." The pirate reached into one of his inside pockets and removed a small datapad, which he proffered to Bane.

Curious, despite himself, the bounty hunter eyed the cover image on the screen. _"Dating the Hondo Ohnaka Way!"_

"It's a two stage plan," he explained.

Bane skimmed the acknowledgements, in which Ohnaka thanked his mother, his Gang, his monkey lizards and his 'two special favourite bounty hunters'. Then he came to the start of the guide. "Part 1: Get 'em Drunk...."

"I had to pad it out a little, of course."

Bane continued to skim through the next few pages (in which the pirate discussed the relative efficacy of various different types of beverage) until an image made him come to a crashing halt.

An illustration of a thoroughly wasted Duros in a duster and a wide brimmed slumped against a bar counter.

For several long moments a tsunami of rage threatened to overwhelm him.

Then pragmatism kicked in.

"How many of these things have been sold so far?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"About eight million."

He did a few mental calculations. Eight million copies at three or four credits a go. After costs, fees and distribution expenses that would work out around....

"Son, I can see that you and me are going to have to discuss my modelling fee."


	21. The Waiting Room (Hondo/Aurra/Cad, Hondo/Half the Galactic Population)

Two pairs of eyes were boring into him.

One set red, one set green: they glared in a manner so coldly resentful that he was loath to take his hand from his blaster.

After several minutes he could take it no more.

"How do you know it was me, anyway?" he demanded, causing the sick-looking Nemoidian three rows down to jump in panic.

"Well, it couldn't have been me," said Aurra, spitting the words out through gritted teeth. "I've not been with anyone else since....." She trailed off, anger momentarily replaced by embarrassment.

"Since who?" He couldn't quite stop himself.

"Some Zabrak bouncer at the Seven Sinners," Bane supplied, not quite so furious at Hondo that he was willing to forgo a dig at Aurra.

She snarled, her expression so terrifying that the Nautolan who'd been sitting under the Male Pregnancy Awareness Week poster got up and ran out of the waiting room. "He wasn't a bouncer he was an arms smuggler."

"If your idea of arms smuggling is sneaking a few blasters onto Coruscant" Bane drew down the brim of his hat a little further. "Who knows what he might have picked up from those Twi'Lek sluts on Sunspot Station."

"Hah, so it could be him," said Hondo triumphantly, before recoiling at the murderous look he was subsequently graced with.

"It happened last year." Her voice could have given a Wampa hypothermia. Despite not being in any way a religious being, he thanked all the Weequay gods when she turned her gazed on Bane. "What about you? Everyone knows you'll peddle your ass to the highest bidder."

"Full medical check two months ago after the Tattooine Job. I was clean."

Two sets of eyes turned back to Hondo.

He shifted about uncomfortably. "Okay, there was the Nautolan and the Human... and the Twi'Lek twins... but none of them _looked_ unsanitary."

The eyes continued to glare.

He groaned. Of all the beings, in all the Galaxy, he'd had to go and give the Corellian Clap to these two.


	22. Always a Next Time (Cad/Aurra)

He growled.

She snarled.

Long, white fingers grabbed the collar of his duster and drew him for a bruising kiss, before slamming him against the wall of his quarters. The noise his head made as it hit the cold metal made the blow sound more painful than it was.

He retaliated by seizing her around the waist and shoving her face first onto the narrow bed. Before he could pin her however she twisted, hooked a leg around his hip and switched their positions. The move was lightning fast, a small demonstration of the deadly precision that had cost so many their lives. It both aroused and discomfited him. If it came down to a fight, one-on-one with fists and feet and no holds barred, he wasn't entirely sure he'd be the last hunter standing.

As she deftly unfastened his fly, he grunted, half in exertion, half in anticipation.

This really had to stop.

It was a mistake. An error. A violation of the guiding principle that had served him so well throughout his adult life. Unfortunately there were certain aspects of the situation that made it real difficult to put an end to it.

The fact that he liked it, for one.

He'd never, since becoming the galaxy's most infamous bounty hunter, encountered a woman so willing (nay eager) to be quite as aggressive with him. He was no submissive, but there were times when he liked his sex rough and she clearly shared the predilection.

She was on him now, all heat and tightness. She bucked and writhed and panted. He grabbed her hips hard enough to bruise and thrust up, earning him a stinging slap to the face and a gasp that could have indicated pleasure or pain.

"What's wrong, Sing. Ohnaka not been sticking it to you hard enough?"

A sneer and another stinging slap. "I'm sure you'd know all about that."

He tightened his grip on her. He knew he was right, in a sense. If it was just a matter of having someone to screw, she wouldn't need him any more than he needed her. She wanted something she couldn't get elsewhere. Oh, Ohnaka would kiss her and pet her and let her work out her frustrations on him, but he wouldn't fight back unless he thought she was actually trying to kill him. And that was what she craved: someone who wouldn't just give her what she wanted.

Smirking at the realisation, he watched as she rode him. Taking in the flush. The sheen of sweat. The way her eyes glazed over when she was about to....

He found his own release just after she did: a surge of heat triggered by the sight of her losing it.

For a moment, the briefest of seconds, he stopped thinking. Too caught up sensation to utilise any of his higher faculties. It was stupid and dangerous, especially with her, but he couldn't help it.

"Next time..." he muttered, as she collapsed on top of him.

"Next time what?" she demanded, sounding a little muzzy herself.

He had been about to tell her that next time she could damned well pay him like everybody else. That Cad Bane wasn't going to satisfy her urges for free. But now he was remembering just how abnormally (for Aurra) mellow this could leave her. Last time she'd told him some very interesting things about the Maargrinti cartel while he'd been idly toying with her breasts.

He considered the matter. He'd let this whole thing go on for too long... but, on the other hand, a rather pleasant feeling of relaxation was already starting to steal over him and it seemed foolish to waste an opportunity.

Shifting about underneath her, he came to a decision.

He'd tell her that next time she could damned well pay him like everybody else.

He'd just do it next time.


	23. Ryloth Horror Show (Hondo/Aurra/Cad)

As they stepped into the theatre, Hondo Ohnaka felt the disgruntled gazes of the two bounty hunters to his flank boring into him.

"This better be good, Ohnaka," growled Bane in that wonderfully raspy voice of his. He had not, Hondo knew, taken well to the suggestion that he forego his hat and duster in favour of the formal suit, hunch-back and straggly wig.

"It will, it will," Hondo assured him. "You, my friends, are in for a treat."

"That's what you said when you took me to that abandoned outpost in the Elom System," said Aurra.

Bane snorted. "Let me guess, the treat was in his pants?"

"How did you know?" Her voice was deadpan and just a little resentful. "I had a job lined up in the core, but he told me that his plan would be eight times more profitable."

Hondo gave a put upon sigh. She always brought that one up. "I had good reason to believe there'd be a big pile of loot there: metals and armaments and the like. It wasn't my fault that Garel's group got there first." Truth be told, he'd known from the start that the stories about a huge cache on the moon were probably vastly exaggerated. But that didn't mean that he'd only been interested in having his then-lover to himself for four days... he'd brought several bottled of spiced liquor with him too. "Besides," he went on, "this isn't the same sort of thing at all. It's a professional entertainment."

Aurra muttered something crude but incisive about what Hondo's idea of 'professional entertainment' usually involved.

"Why do we need to dress up in these ridiculous costumes anyway?" said Bane. "You didn't say anything in the brief about this being under-cover work." As far as Bane was concerned if this was undercover work the disguises were the most poorly conceived of he'd ever seen. Aurra's low cut maid's outfit made her look more like an S&M prostitute than an actual domestic cleaner, Ohnaka's Corellian delivery man getup was three centuries out of date and looked decidedly out of place on a Weequay (especially the sideburns and huge fake scar on the forehead) and Bane's present appearance was so conspicuous he could have been picked out a mile off by a partially sighted Human.

"It's traditional," explained Hondo. "And you know how fond of tradition I am."

"When it suits you," muttered Aurra, who was pretty sure that nice, traditional Weequayan men weren't suppose to want to do obscene things with Duros males and near-human women (and certainly not at the same time). When she'd first seen the costume, she'd wondered if her ex-lover had some kind of hitherto unknown weird, inverse master-servant fetish and this was a sign that he wanted her to tie him up and do unorthodox things to him with a feather duster and modified maintenance droid. However, it was rapidly becoming clear that something far more unnerving was going on.

"Now, I must tell you something very important," said Hondo, pausing to remove a datapad from one of the pockets in his leather jacket. After a few button pushes a picture of wholesome looking Human couple appeared on its screen. "His name is Braed Maychors. When you here that name shout Mynock sphincter as loud as you can."

"And the woman?" asked Bane. "Is she the mark?"

"No, it's as I explained before. There is no mark. This is a production, a spectacle."

Pilf Muk Muk, who was cruising along beside the party in a small hoverchair, gave an enthusiastic squawk of assent and adjusted the plaid blanket on his lap.

"Anyway, the woman is Jahnat Wyhss. When you hear that name, shout shutta as loud as you can."

Aurra rolled her eyes. This was too weird, even for Hondo. If he just wanted some kinky three-way sex this was not the way to go about getting it. And the presence of that loathsome monkey lizard vermin he kept around was, given the context, frankly disturbing.

"Ah, now, here we are: Auditorium Sixty-Nine."

Bane was half-way through muttering something about this being a stupid place for an ambush when the door opened to reveal... a plush and gold amphitheatre, filled with hundreds of beings dressed up just like them.

"What the frell is this?" he demanded, as the pirate swept into the room, taking a moment to check himself out in a patch of reflective metal.

"What, this?" Hondo made a sweeping gesture. "This, my friends, is the finest production of the Ryloth Horror Show ever to come to the Outer Rim."

The bounty hunters surveyed their surroundings. As they looked closely they saw familiar faces amongst the throng. There was Sugi, dressed in a sequinned top hat, shorts and jacket; Embo, who – with the absurd attempt at sideburns on the outside of his helmet – seemed to be going for the same look as Hondo; and... WHAT THE KARK? Was that Skywalker in the gold briefs standing guard next to... Chancellor Palpatine in a black teddy and fishnets!

Before either of them had the chance to express their bafflement, the lights dimmed and a Theelin woman donning a costume similar to Aurra's strode out onto the stage.

"Now then," she said, surveying the crowds around her. "Have we got any virgins here tonight?"

"YES," bellowed Hondo at the top of his voice. "I HAVE TWO HERE WITH ME."


	24. Movie Night on Florrum (Hondo/Aurra/Cad)

"Secret data this pirate has, though know it he does not. Retrieve it you will."

As far as Obi Wan Kenobi was concerned it had seemed a simple enough task: go to Florrum, locate the Separatist vessel the Ohnaka Gang had seized and obtain the Separatist plans it carried.

And yet... there was something distinctly eerie about the compound. It was not, by any stretch of the imagination, abandoned. There were Weequay patrolling the perimeter and the odd Bith unloading cargo from a burned out courier craft. However, there were fewer about of than he remembered from his last visit and there was something distinctly subdued about all of them.

"I don't like it," he murmured, handing Anakin the electrobinoculars. "They must have realised we're here." It was peculiar, very peculiar. He would have expected Hondo to acknowledge their presence by now, yet the pirate hadn't. He could sense excitement, anticipation and it was coming from the structure at the centre of the compound. "There's something going on in there."

Anakin shrugged. "Nothing we can't handle."

Not particularly wanting to dwell upon the embarrassment that had been their previous visit to the planet, he refrained from pointing out that they'd thought that last time.

"Well, it looks like we'll have to make ourselves known." He took out his comlink. "Cody, are you in position."

"Yes General, we're to the north-east of the compound, one and a half kilometres away from the perimeter."

"Good, if you haven't heard from us again within forty minutes, enter the compound and take the craft by force."

"Yes General." He could sense that had Cody been calling the shots this would have been his first choice of action, but there wasn't any sense in risking heavy casualties when there might be a straightforward alternative.

He looked at Anakin, who nodded. Then they stepped out from behind the outcrop of rocks they been secreted behind for the last twenty minutes and started to walk towards the base, force senses on full alert for any hint of a trap. As they approached the outskirts of the base they were greeted by a surly looking Weequay female with several missing fingers, an interesting array of facial scars and an ancient blaster.

"You're expected," she said, before Kenobi had a chance to open his mouth in greeting.

"Expected?" It sounded ominous.

"That's right. The boss would have come out to greet you himself, but it's his movie night." She sniffed. "Can't say I care for it myself, all of them smooth bodies... no offence meant, of course."

"None taken," he said, nonplussed yet overcome with foreboding. He glanced at Anakin, who seemed to be of much the same mind as himself.

"I don't sense a trap," Anakin muttered, as the female pirate and two younger (or at least less battle scarred) looking males escorted them towards the main structure. He sounded puzzled.

"Neither do I, but I still don't like it," he muttered back, foreboding increasing by the second.

When they reached the entrance the female gestured for them to enter alone, not even bothering to ask for their lightsabers. He glanced again at Anakin, who shrugged.

"Last door on the left," the female pirate said, mouth curving into a slight smirk. "Won't be able to miss it." And with that she turned, grunted something at the males and walked away.

"What do you think they want?" said Anakin, hand going to his lightsaber.

"I don't know, but I suspect we're going to find out very soon."

They progressed slowly along the structure's main hallway, passing the odd inebriated Bith, jabbering Jawa and unconscious Weequay. However, none of these denizens gave them more than a brief look. Even the designated guards (who could be identified only by the fact that they were marginally less inebriated than the rest) regarded them in a smirking, cursory way. The door was, as the female pirate had informed them, impossible to miss. It was large, solid and had a sign saying 'Movie Night' on it.

The two Jedi looked at each other, put their hands on their lightsabers and hit the release.

A moment later they found themselves stepping into a darkened room filled with over two hundred Weequay, about twenty Nikto and a trio of Bith. All were sitting at tables facing a large two-dimensional screen.

Be mindful of your surroundings, Qui Gon Jinn had taught him. And so he endeavoured to keep his mind and eyes open to the movements of the beings around him. However, there was one thing about the situation that made this almost as difficult to do as it had been on his and Master Qui Gon's visit to the Temple of the Mostly Nude Priestesses of the Sacred Grove during their annual ritual oiling ceremony. Namely, what was going on onscreen.

There was a view of a steam filled shower room, in which Hondo Ohnaka stood: naked, unashamed and humming a jaunty tune. It was more of the pirate than Kenobi had ever wanted to see, but he couldn't help but be struck by the... well, quite obvious fact that Hondo's fixation with big tanks was clearly not some form of overcompensation.

"How... I mean, how could it get that big? That's not normal for Weequay, right?" Anakin's tones were a mixture of awe, disbelief and outright envy.

Before Kenobi had a chance to admit his own ignorance with respect to Weequan anatomy and point out that having one that size would probably be more hindrance than help in many situations, another figure entered the picture. The being was blue, wiry and – despite the fact that warm steam water was cascading over him – wearing holsters and wide-brimmed hat. He instantly recognised the individual Cad Bane, but it took him a few moments to fully accept that the galaxy's most infamous bounty hunter was appearing in... in this.

He stared as the Duros named his price.

Gawped as Hondo haggled.

Stood slack jawed and opened mouthed as they 'got down to business' right there under the spray.

"Ere, get out of the way. I can't see what's going on." The words snapped Kenobi back to the here and now. Muttering an apology he stepped out of the Weequay's line of sight. Anakin however was still rooted to the spot. It took several sharp jabs to his ribs to rouse him from his startled stupor.

"I don't understand," he murmured. "He's a bounty hunter. A career killer. Not a common— "

"Shutta!" The cry was loud, piercing and resolutely female. Eyes instantly drawn back to the screen, Kenobi watched disbelievingly as the galaxy's second most infamous bounty hunter charged into the frame and proceeded to try and throttle Bane. It didn't work, the slipperiness of the floor and the soapiness of the water acted to send all three crashing wet and foamy to the ground.

He'd never wanted to know what Hondo kept tucked away in his trousers.

Never wanted to know how exactly how far Bane would go for five-thousand credits.

And he certainly could have done without hearing Sing's very graphic proclamations about what she'd been willing to do with the 'lying, cheating bastard' for free.

However, the whole thing was having the most disconcerting effect on the lower portions of his body.

So unmindful of his surrounding was he that he didn't notice the tall, broad-shouldered figure approaching to his left until it clapped an arm around his shoulder.

He gulped.

"Kenobi," the very well endowed pirate captain bellowed in greeting, joyfully clapping him on the back. "Good to see you here for our special entertainments. You missed the start, but don't worry, there's hours of material left."

"Hours?" He gulped again.

-0-

Several hundred light years away on Coruscant a small green Jedi master suddenly began to chortle.

Mace Windu snapped out of his deep meditation rolled his eyes. "You knew what was going to happen, didn't you?"

Yoda continued to chuckle. "When eight-hundred years old you are, take your kicks where you can, you will too."


	25. Midnight Holocall (Hondo/Aurra/Cad)

Obi-Wan Kenobi looked at the image on the holo-projector and groaned.

Surely... not again.... It had only been three days since the last call.

"Hondo," he muttered in unenthusiastic greeting, wishing that he had some kind of caffeinated drink to hand. Alas, Ki Adi Mundi was on another of his 'wholesome living' kicks and all such unwholesome beverages were currently banned from the Jedi Temple.

"Kenobi, you're looking a little tense."

"Yes, well, if you will insist on—"

"I can recommend a nice Twi'lek girl to you. Very clean. Very discreet. Just a few districts away from your Temple. A few hours with her and I promise that you'll be completely relaxed."

He gave a heavy sigh. "Hondo, what do you want?"

"Well, you see Kenobi, I need your advice."

It took a monumental effort on Obi-Wan's part to keep himself from groaning. It had been going on for two months now. The drunken late night holocalls: jovial and maudlin in about equal measure. At first he'd had them blocked. Told the Padawan in communications to bar all non-Jedi messages sent from Florrum. Then Yoda had come along and scolded him for his selfish short-sightedness.

"Much good you could do, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Valuable information, this pirate may have."

Much entertainment, this pirate will provide the Council with. Better than a soap opera or the Keremy Jyle Show, his lovelife is, he'd thought to himself uncharitably (a thought that now suspected was the reason why he'd been the Council member selected to oversee the Temple drainage system repairs). However, a loyal Jedi he was, and so he'd done as the Grand Master of the Order had requested.

And now... now his sleep had been interrupted yet again by the Weequay reprobate.

"Hondo, I already gave you my opinion. Arriving at her hideout in the middle of the night with a bunch of flowers you stole from next door's window box, and telling her that her other present's in your pants will NOT make up for the fact that you forgot her birthday."

"Oh, it's not that. That situation's been dealt with. I did as you suggested and got her some nice little hair trinkets. Expensive ones." The pirate's face fell. "I had to pay for them. With credits." He said this last bit as if 'paying for things with credits' was code for 'performing unnatural acts with rancors'.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it, but I don't see—"

"They've had a falling out. He told her she piloted like a deaf, blind and drunk Jawa. And so she said she'd seen semi-sentient pond weed wield a slug thrower with greater accuracy than him."

Obi-Wan inwardly groaned. It was going to be one of those calls.

"I'm stuck in the middle, Kenobi."

"Then stay neutral," he said, firmly. "Take no side. You've said it yourself before: their fights aren't yours. Have no further contact with either until it blows over."

" Yesss, I could, I suppose...." The pirate however looked less than convinced.

"But?"

"But tonight she's said she'll let me...." He made an utterly obscene mime. "And I don't mind telling you, my friend, she never does that for anybody."

"Then why—?"

"He says that if I go to him tonight he'll...." Another, ever more obscene, mime. "And he says he'll do it for no payment as long as I let him keep the hat on. What do I do, Kenobi? What do I do?"

He sighed. "Hondo, have you ever considered pursuing a long-term entanglement with a being who isn't a sociopathic killer for hire?"

It was the Weequay's turn to sigh. "Yes, but it's just not the same."


	26. Cooking With Hondo (Hondo/Bad Choices)

For a long time Bane just stared at the contents of the rations container.

Then he turned his disbelieving gaze on Aurra.

"Well, don't blame me," she said lips pursed. "I wasn't the one who put him in charge of provisions."

"Kark it, Ohnaka," the Duros growled. "Where's the rest of it?"

Ohnaka, seemingly oblivious to Bane's fury, gave a regretful sight. "It wouldn't all fit, my friend. I had to make some hard choices."

"You've packed eight bottles of Twi'lek liquor, five bottles of Corellian whiskey and one bottle of Antrillian mind mist."

"And two bottles of Red Cloud for Aurra," the Weequay added, sounding hurt that this gesture should be overlooked.

"So what exactly do you expect us to eat?"

Ohnaka grinned and clapped him on the back. "Ho ho, you think I'd let us starve just for the sake of bringing a little more liquor with us?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Bane muttered.

The pirate laughed. "Look around you," he said, making a sweeping gesture at the planet's rocky terrain. "We can live off the land."

"Live off the land? This whole continent's a barren wasteland."

"Ah, you're just not looking hard enough. You see that bird, nesting over there in that outcrop. We can take its eggs and cook them with the edible fungus growing in that cave to the east."

"You're certain it's edible?"

"Positive," said the Weequay, proudly. "I saw the recipe on the holonet. Yes, my friends, tonight we will be having Magic Omelette Surprise."


	27. Green Eyes Monster (Hondo/Aurra/Cad, Shahan Alama/Cad)

"I don't get it!" Alama declared, thumping his mug of ale down on the bar counter.

"Get what?" Robonino gurgled, looking slightly the worse for wear for having downed six plankton and spice wine mixers in a row.

"Aurra 'bleeding' Sing and Hondo 'karking' Ohnaka, that's what. How come everyone wants to sleep with 'em?" He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that any reasonably alert and intuitively astute listener would tack a mental '...and not me' onto the end of the sentence. An especially astute individual might even go so far as to substituted 'everyone' with 'a drunk Cad Bane'. Thankfully, it was late evening at Keyorin's most infamous bounty hunter oriented boozer and both 'reasonably alert' and 'intuitively astute' were in short supply when it came to anything other than weapons acquisition and 'watching one's back'.

"I don't want to," the little Patrolian said, before giving a hiccup.

"Me neither," rumbled Bossk, who was sitting on the barstool to his immediate right.

"Well, obviously you two don't want to, you're from egg laying species. I'm talking humanoids."

"But you said everyone wants to sleep with them," the Patrolian persisted.

"Who wants to sleep with who?" a female voice enquired. He glanced around to see the Zabrak... what was her name, Sukey or Sugi or something, heading on over towards the counter.

"He says that everybody wants to sleep with Hondo Ohnaka and Aurra Sing," Robonino said, before pouring himself another ill advised drink.

The Zabrak, clearly in a rather better mood than Alama, laughed. "Well, I certainly don't."

The Kyuzo next to her said something in his native language.

"And neither does Embo," the Zabrak reported.

"I was being hyperbo-watsit. When I said 'everyone' I meant 'a lot of beings'. And frankly, I don't understand it. What've they got that I— er, I mean other people don't?"

"I know," Robonino piped up. "Let's put it to a vote."

Before Alama could protest, the Patrolian unsteadily clambered onto the bar counter and, after swaying back and forth for a few seconds, addressed the barroom.

"Okay, hands up everyone who doesn't want to sleep with Aurra Sing or Hondo Ohnaka." Then, after speaking the words, the fishy little bastard toppled down onto the floor, where he cheerfully hiccupped and passed out into slobbering unconsciousness.

Embo and the Zabrak raised their hands, as did Alama and Bossk (the latter of whom seemed to be shaking his reptilian head at the utter juvenility of it all).

In the end the only beings not raising their hands were those unconscious on the floor, the four Dugs in the corner (who were instead raising their feet) and Cato Parasitti, who had flushed dark green, donned her helmet and headed swiftly towards the door as soon as the name 'Aurra Sing' was mentioned.

"Poor Cato," said the Zabrak, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "She must have been very lonely in prison."

Embo said something and the pair of them of them nodded sagely.

Alama's eyed widened. "You mean...?"

"They shared a cell," the Zabrak explained.

Shahan Alama was not a being generally inclined towards emotions such as 'pity', but even he, who had oft gouged out the eyes of his target just to make their fellow marks squirm couldn't help but feel that locking a person in the same cell as Aurra Sing constituted unnecessary sadism.

The Kyuzo spoke again.

"Embo says. 'So you see, not 'everyone' is so lost to reason and decency'."

Feeling slightly embarrassed by the whole scene, Alama grunted and ordered another ale from the Rodian barman. When the Zabrak and the Kyuzo obtained their drinks and headed back over to their own table, he relaxed and began to drink.

His relief however was short lived. Half way down his pint, he became aware of a shadow encroaching from his left. Seizing his blaster, he snarled and turned on the figure... only to find himself glaring into a horribly familiar face.

"Well, well look who it is," he grunted, glowering at Hondo Ohnaka and his stupidly cheerful expression.

Not the least bit intimidated by the way he brandished his blaster, the pirate captain merely grinned.

"Never mind, bounty hunter," he said, feeding a treat to the monkey lizard perched on his shoulder. "I'm sure that one day you'll find a blue friend of your very own."

Before he had chance to squeeze the trigger, a long-fingered hand clamped down on his neck, hitting a pressure point he hadn't known was there.

As the blaster hit the floor, a female voice spoke into his ear. "And who knows, maybe you won't even have to pay it."


	28. The Sing Deception AKA A Tale of Two Aurras (Aurra/Cad, Cad/Cato Parasitti - sort of)

Cato Parasitti was well aware that what she was about to do was a) deeply stupid, b) highly dangerous and c) likely to outrage the moral sensibilities of decent sentient beings everywhere. But she knew as soon as she transformed that she was going to go through with it.

Lounging on a chair the other side of the poky hotel room, Sing gave a delighted laugh, before stretching and rising to her feet in one sinuous movement.

"Here," she said, plucking an orange jumpsuit from the case on the floor and throwing it to Cato, who caught it and eyed it dubiously.

"It's clean," the other bounty huntress said, looking offended.

"I didn't say it was dirty," Cato shot back. "I just don't like it, that's all."

"It's what I usually wear," said Sing. Then the sides of the pale woman's mouth quirked upwards. "Well, there's the rancor-hide basque, but that's only for very special occasions."

Not caring to enquire what such 'special occasions' entailed, Cato looked again at the jumpsuit. It was, as Sing had stated, clean, but it was still another being's garment. Mimicking Sing's form was one thing.... But wearing her clothes? There was something about the idea she just didn't like.

"Look Parasitti, he's going to notice if you're holoprojecting," she said. "Not that I think you stand any chance of pulling it off anyway." She gave an amused little snort. "Then again you might prove me wrong."

Cato said nothing. At first, she'd wondered why the other woman was so willing to help her in this sordid endeavour. Then, she'd come to appreciate just how much Sing enjoyed toying with people for her own peculiar amusement. She was a fool for allowing her to 'help', and an even bigger fool for embarking of this little scheme in the first place. But then not all compulsions were rational, and what was this if not a compulsion.

Had she not told the Jedi about Bolla Ropal, things might have been different, but she wasn't naive enough to think he forget that one in a hurry. Not that she hadn't been thoroughly irked that he'd ditched her at the temple... but then, that was what you expected when you worked with Cad Bane.

Finding the long, pale fingers surprisingly easy to use, she removed her present holoprojecting attire and began to pull on the stretchy orange garment.

"You know," said Sing, conversationally. "Hondo would be easier to pull off than me. Sure, you'd probably have to pay, but the expectations would be different."

"I wouldn't do it as a male," she snapped, disgusted by the idea. Then she added: "What do you mean by expectations."

Sing shrugged. "I scratch, bite, slam him against the wall and leave him bruised all over.... Oh, and you can expect him to fight back." She snorted. "Sometimes he even wins."

Cato swallowed. "And then what?"

"Then, unless there's bacta to spare, I can't sit down without wincing for the whole damned week." Sing, clearly enjoying herself, strode over to the window and peek behind the blinds. "He's coming in now. Better hurry up."

She could still back out of this ridiculous plan. There was time. She could just change back, slip out of the building and have nothing further to do with Bane or her psychopathic narcissist of an accomplice.

"Second thoughts?" said Sing, smirking.

Cato gritted her teeth, zipped up the jumpsuit and walked out to meet her unwitting assignation.


	29. Double Trouble (Aurra/Cad, Cad/Cato Parasitti)

"You knew!" He spoke the words as if he wasn't sure whether to be furious or amused. This was in fact the case. He didn't know whether to kill her for her part in the deception or thank her for what had, when it came down to it, been a pleasantly diverting experience.

If Aurra sensed any real threat to her person, she didn't show it, merely giving a lazy shrug and slinking down onto the worn two-seater that resided opposite the room's even more dilapidated looking bed. "How long did she have you fooled?"

He briefly considered lying and telling her than he'd known from the start, but rejected the idea on the grounds that she'd see the denial for what it was. No point making himself look defensive.

"About six minutes," he confessed.

"What gave her away?" To his surprised her tone suggested curiosity rather than gloating.

"Hesitation," he said, before adding. "She ain't what you'd call a natural sadist. Not that I'm complainin' about that, you understand. Makes a change not to end the night with my shoulders half-flayed."

Aurra snorted. "If you didn't like it you wouldn't keep coming back for more."

As much as he hated to admit it, there was an inkling of truth in this. There was a certain amount of excitement to be had from screwing somebody who had no compunction about hurting him. No fear, awe or deference. And besides, she didn't always come out on top. Sometimes he got her pinned on her front: panting, squirming and calling him every obscure Huttese expletive in existence. She wasn't the kind of woman you had to worry about breaking with a little rough treatment.

"You have your charms," he said, deliberately leering at her breasts.

Another amused little snort. She was in a good mood today. Usually a crack like that would earn him a sour look or even a slap. "You were in there for more than six minutes before the argument started," she prompted, wetting her lips.

Kinky voyeur, he thought. But then he'd known that for years. That antenna wasn't just used for professional reasons. Not that he had any scope for judgement on that score. Some of the things she picked up on that thing were hilarious. That conversation between the horny Dug and the Toydarian manning the eroto-droid repair hololine had had him chuckling on and off for weeks.

"No reason not to take advantage on what was on offer," he said, making a dismissive gesture.

"And the argument?" Her gaze was intent now. Obviously the walls hadn't been thin enough to allow her to catch the whole thing.

He grimaced; a sudden sharp pain reminding him how livid with grey green bruising the area around his left eye was likely to be the next day.

"Well?" she prompted.

Bearing his teeth, he gave a snarl of irritation. Then, realising that this would only serve enhance her perverse curiosity, he grunted and spoke again.

"All I did was ask her if she could mimic that Twi'lek waitress at the Sunspot Lounge. You know, the one with the big..." he made a large arcing gesture in front of his chest "...who never puts out for bounty hunters." He shook his head. "The way she reacted you'd have thought I'd asked her to turn into Jabba the Hutt."


	30. Love, Marriage, Magazines (Hondo/Aurra, Hondo/Cad)

**Miscalculation**

"He knows?" Hondo frowned.

"You honestly thought he wouldn't find out." The sides of Aurra's mouth curved upwards. Evil, evil woman.

This was, alas, exactly what Hondo had thought. The Brigand was the Galaxy's number one pirate periodical, but bounty hunters didn't tend to read it. And besides he'd used a pseudonym and made sure the Duros's face was in shadow.

Aurra snorted. "Hondo, you sent his picture to Readers' Wenches it was inevitable."

"No it wasn't. You never—" He halted. "Er, what I mean was...."

It was too late though, her fingers were already heading for his neck.

-o0O0o-

**A Marriage of Inconvenience**

In his eventful and morally degenerate life, Cad Bane had experienced many a hangover.

He had never however come to consciousness with quite the same sense of fear and dread as he was now experiencing. Not even the time when he'd woken up manacled to Madam Ryloth, the Mid Rims most scandalous drag queen.

He wasn't sure what it was. His headache was only mildly splitting. His stomach only moderately upset. And the heavy, rumbling breaths in his ear clearly belong to Ohnaka.

Ohnaka? Something out of the ordinary had happened last night. Something involving both of them. Something that had seemed like a good idea at the time.

If only he could remember what it was.

Tentatively he opened one red eye and then the other.

The room was bright, horribly so. For several second all was an unpleasant nauseating blur of light and colour. Then clarity returned.

He took in the confetti, the tacky bridal suite decor, the now-ragged gauzy veil crumpled on the dresser, the holobook on the nightstand with the words Our Special Day emblazoned on the screen.

He then did the only thing he could under the circumstances and screamed.

Ohnaka awoke, looking only mildly groggy. "Ugh... what's happening?"

Bane narrowed his eyes. This clearly the Weequay's fault. Even drunk, spiced out of his mind and high on deathsticks he wouldn't do something this stupid of his own accord.

"Get up Ohnaka, we've got work to do."

"Work?"

"Dat's right, we're goin' to go out and find a damned good divorce lawyer."

-o0O0o-

**The Enablers**

Obi-Wan sighed, guilt starting to prey upon his mind. "We should never have agreed to be witnesses."

"Hey, they wanted to go through with it. Two adult criminals. What could be natural?" There was something slightly disconcerting about Anakin's ardent defence of taboo marriage.

"Yes, but they were very drunk."

Anakin shrugged. "Not our problem, right Ahsoka."

"Hmm." Ahsoka looked up from the wedding-themed holomontage she was composing. "... Oh, right master."

She smiled and turned her gaze back to her holomontage.

Such a shame she wouldn't be able to see Aurra Sing's face when the bounty huntress received it.


	31. Watching the Bounty Hunters (Aurra/Cad, Obi-Wan/Deep Embarrassment)

Quieter than a temple rodent in stealth mode and cloaked in the force, Jedi Master Obi Wan Kenobi watched from the shadows as Bane poured himself another Corellian whiskey. An inelegant move that saw him splashing nearly as much on the table as he managed to get into his glass. It was obvious that he was drunk. Very very drunk.

"Sooo Chu'akku de Blade."

"What about him?" Sing refilled her own glass with rather more precision than her Duros companion, but the heaviness of her voice suggested that she wasn't far behind Bane in the inebriation stakes. She wasn't quite slurring, but another couple of glasses and she likely as not would be.

"I heard dat you an' he..." Bane formed an O with the thumb and index finger of his left hand and suggestively moved the middle finger of his right hand in and out of it.

Sing's expression puckered in distaste, but to Obi-Wan's surprise she did not respond by shooting him in the face. Instead she gave him a shove that seemed almost playful (even if it did almost send him falling off his chair).

"A Whipid. That's disgusting."

"I hear dey have big...." The bounty hunter made an odd gesture that Obi-Wan could only assume was some kind of obscene Duros hand signal for penis.

"You only hear." She snorted.

Bane shrugged. "Never met one willin' to meet my prices."

"Manwhore."

"Better than workin' for free.... Not dat you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She sounded offended by this, but not quite as offended as the Jedi might have imagined given the woman's usual ultra-violent modus operandi.

"How many times have you sucked Ohnaka's dick jus' to get him to lend you a starfighter."

"It's different if you're in a relationship," Sing shot back, sounding defensive.

"He broke up with you years ago."

"So?"

"So dat ain't a relationship. Dat's an ex-relationship."

"I still like him." Sing seemed almost hurt.

"Not sayin' you don't."

"And it's not like I ever let him stick it in my ass."

"What's dat got to do wit' anything." Bane sounded genuinely puzzled.

"If I was a whore I'd just name a price... like you do." There was a note of something perilously close to self-righteous smugness in her voice.

More than a little disconcerted by the turn their conversation was taking, Obi-Wan found himself almost wishing that he'd opted to trail Bossk instead. True, the Trandoshan was clearly little more than hired muscle as far Bane's current conspiracy went, but following him around Lower Level drinking dens and fight pits would undoubtedly prove a more fruitful endeavour than loitering around this long abandoned speeder repair workshop the bounty hunters had made their temporary base of operations.

Then again, if he had opted to spend the night following Bossk, it would have meant that the newly Knighted Barriss Offee would have been obliged to keep an eye on Bane and Sing, and he couldn't help but get the sense that years spent as Luminara's apprentice probably wouldn't prepare her for a sordid little conversation like this.

"Dat's not... not bein' a whore. Dat's jus' being' frigid."

At this Sing was indignant. "Frigid? You're calling me frigid?"

Bane made a dismissive gesture, one that – owing to his present state of inebriation – succeeded in knocking an empty Red Cloud bottle off the table.

"Well, maybe not completely frigid. Jus' a little bit prissy... in some ways."

Snarling, Sing overturned the table with a hard but slightly unsteady swipe, got up and grasped the sides of Bane's duster.

"Prissy. I'll show you prissy."

And with that she shoved the Duros off his seat and onto the floor, where she proceeded to straddle his midsection.

Bane chuckled, his hands going straight for her hips. "Sing, if I'da known you jus' wanted to squirm about on the end of my—" A sharp slap to the face momentarily cut him off.

"Oooh the claws are coming out." Another chuckle.

"Shut up, Bane," she snapped.

Bane complied. Possibly because he wished to avoid another stinging slap, but more likely because she chose that moment to start squirming about in earnest.

In his spot in the shadows Obi-Wan Kenobi shut his eyes and asked the Force to give him patience... and the ability to report all of this back to the Council without going bright red.


	32. Mutiny (Hondo/Aurra)

"Mutiny?" Aurra regarded Hondo sceptically.

"That's right my dear, the faithless scum mutinied. Can you believe it? After all I've done for them. And now... now I find myself without a bed to call my own."

"Let me guess, you want to come and stay in mine?"

He smiled his most charming smile. "Ah, but just think, I can keep you warm and safe during these cold, lonely winter nights."

"Hondo, this is a space station." A space station that, she was absolutely certain, she had never mentioned to her former lover as one of her part-time residences. Someone must have blabbed.

"A cold space station orbiting a lonely and desolate star."

"Then why not go and bother Bane? I hear he's back on Coruscant?"

He sighed. "Aurra, you know he can't compete with you when it comes to the softness of your bosom and the longness of your legs and—"

"The fact that I don't charge by the hour?"

Hondo however was not to be put off. "And its high standards like that a man like me can really respect in a woman."

She was tempted to retort that the fact that the fact that she'd willingly had sexual relations with him on several hundred occasions wasn't exactly indicative of high standard, but decided that diminishing herself for the sake of slighting him just wasn't her style.

"You weren't very happy to see me the last time I showed up at your door unannounced," she pointed out.

"Only because the time before that you blew up half my base."

"You told me you never wanted to see me again." She folded her arms. "And it wasn't half your base, it was more like a twelfth."

"I was annoyed. I didn't actually mean I never wanted to see you again. It's a bit like the time I wagered you in that card game. You were furious for months, but you got over it." He grinned again.

She scowled, but there was no real malice in it. Truth be told, the thought of having a horny, eager to please pirate between her thighs for half an hour or so was actually quite appealing. However, the thought of having a bored, underemployed pirate getting under her feet (and on top of her 'trying to sleep right now' body) for an indefinite length of time was rather less so.

"Besides, it will only be for a few days."

"A few days? You got something big planned?"

"Not planned per se. I just made sure to change the access codes on the warehouse housing the liquor stores before they made me leave the planet." Hondo's grin widened. "I give them three days at most."


	33. Ten Strikes (Aurra/Cad)

_"Sing, if you can dish it out, I can take it."_

As Bane knelt, stripped to the waist, on the cold, scuffed motel floorboards he began to seriously question his earlier bravado. He had not been drunk at the time, but he had been high from the kill and buzzing from the knowledge that two-million credits had just been deposited in that anonymous Muunilinst account.... and the feeling that he could grab the universe by the balls and make it beg for mercy had been all consuming. It had taken only the slightest bit of teasing and goading on the part of his favourite professional rival to get him to lay it all on the table.

"Hands behind your head," she ordered, trailing the end of the Nashtah-hide crop along with length of his spine and giving him a painful nudge with her boot.

He could tell that the whole scene was turning her on, if the huskiness in her voice hadn't clued him in the pheromones would have. But hell, the woman was a natural sadist. He'd known that ever since Fett senior had brought her along as a sniper on that Corp. Sec job. Bane had never had much time for Fett or his goddamn useless code of honour, but he'd immediately seen the potential in the depraved little bitch following in his wake.

She gave him another nudge, this one harder than the first. "I said, put your hands behind your head."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, taking care to sound far more relaxed than he actually felt. Then he gave a trying-to-look-casual stretch before complying.

"You know the rules," she said. He could hear her licking her lips. "I'm going to—"

"I know what de deal is, Sing. Ten strikes, no screaming, no moaning, no grunting. If you're going to do it, do it."

The first blow took him by surprise. A lazy (if searing) strike, that seemed more designed to get his attention than anything else.

He sneered. "Dat the best you can do, schut—?

In answer the second blow came with thrice the force and eight times the stinging malice.

"Just getting warmed up, honey."

He opened his mouth to utter a retort, but strikes three and four came in quick succession, forcing him to promptly shut it; biting his tongued and filling his mouth with coppery blood in the process.

Five and six were harder still, causing him to inhale sharply, mind suddenly cast back to that time when he was fourteen and the port authorities on that stinking little backwater swamp world had sentenced him to twenty-lashes. He'd been terrified then, now though....

Seven was crueller than anything that stick-in-the-ass public retributions officer had been able to dish out before his former Duros victim snapped his neck. The little twist in the wrist action Aurra had going, put her way above brainless, mundane torturers like that.

The hot little moan she gave as eight made contact left him momentarily uncertain as to whether he was suppressing the urge to scream with agony or scream for some other reason entirely.

When nine came, the best he could do was clench his jaw shut, two teeth chipping as forced himself not to cry out.

And ten... when that accumulation of malevolence and rage hit, he blacked out for a couple of seconds, before coming to face down on the floor, Aurra's ill-tempered grunts of irritation filling his ears.

Getting shakily to his feet, his back a roiling, seething mass of pain, he examined the damage in the room's single grimy mirror and winced. The woman had damned near flayed his shoulders.

"Not bad," he remarked, eyeing her up as she leaned against the wall, too flushed and panting to give the sullen, defiant pose he was certain she would have otherwise adopted. Picking up his hat from the nightstand, he returned it to its rightful place on his head. Then he smirked, strode over to his tormentor and laid one hand on her shoulder.

She scowled.

Smirk intensifying, Bane tsked and raised a chiding finger.

"You know de rules, Sing. You made dem. Don't be a sore loser."

The scowl diminished into something that was almost a pout. "Hutt karking sleemo bastard."

He snorted and grabbed her ass.

She retaliated by planting her palm down on his back. To her obvious annoyance however, this elicited nothing more than a brief snarl followed an intensification of the smirk, the healing agents he'd taken beforehand already kicking into action and numbing the pain.

"You've got a dirty mouth, Sing." He said, running his fingers down her side. "Now let's see just how dirty it can get."

Beaten, but not in any way cowed or humbled, she shove him back, slunk down onto her knees and went for his fly, a decidedly predatory gleam in her eye.

As his sensory world was momentarily enveloped by lips, tongue and teeth (admittedly slightly more teeth than was his usual preference in such matters), one clear and very lucid thought shone through.

It was good to be Cad Bane.

If the universe could dish it out, he could take it and damned well make the universe suck it.


	34. Jealousy and the Modern Bounty Hunter (Aurra/Cad, implied Cad/Hardeen)

As the star fighter zipped away from the burning prison and up into the stratosphere, Cad Bane looked at his 'rescuer' and waited for the all too predictable recriminations start. He did not have to wait for long.

"A Jedi! You wanted a sniper and you went and picked a damned Jedi."

Bane gritted his teeth. "I didn't know it at de time."

"Rako Hardeen! What kind of name is that, anyway?"

He managed to refrain from pointing out that 'Rako Hardeen' sounded no more ridiculous than 'Aurra Sing' and had the benefit of not making its bearer sound like a second rate Lower Level striptease artist.

"Dooku and Eval organised de invites. Not me." He didn't mention that he'd purposefully held back from suggesting her as a possible candidate. No need to give himself more competition than was strictly necessary. Besides, he wouldn't put it past her to openly slander his sexual prowess if it came to a direct competition. The woman fought dirty and there was no telling what damage to his 'secondary income' she might bring about. Despite the 'lone killer' stereotype most bounty hunters were inveterate gossips - especially when it came to one another - and you could be sure that at least one of them would spill to a potential client.

"I heard you saved his life," she went on, tone shifting from annoyed to wounded.

"I told you, I didn't know what Hardeen was." It was still something of a struggle to think of his notquitebutsortofalmostnearlybuddy Hardeen as Obi-Wan Kenobi. They'd shared A Moment dammit.

"You didn't do anything to save me on Pelafit Prime."

"Dat was different. If you hadn't got up after de police had shot you I could have claimed de whole bounty myself. I kept Har— Kenobi alive because I thought he'd be useful."

She opened her mouth to reply, but shut it when three patrol vessels came into view. After she'd despatched them with what Bane considered to be little more than tolerable proficiency, he cleared his throat and continued.

"Don't see what you're complainin' about anyhow. We got karked over real good."

For a while she remained silent. Then, a few minutes after they entered interplanetary space, she turned to eye him once again.

"Was he a better sniper than me?" There was an almost needy quality to the question.

Bane carefully considered his response. "He was good dat's for sure... but he wasn't you."

Never squirmed about on my lap or used me as a footrest, for instance. he mentally added.

"That's an evasion," she said, hand unconsciously caressing the blaster holstered to her thigh.

He exhaled in exasperation. "Fine, you're de better sniper." Truth be told he hadn't seen quite enough of Hard— Kenobi's sharp-shooting to make a true comparison, but the man was, to use her own words, a 'damned Jedi'.

Seemingly mollified by this Aurra smiled and punched something into the navigation control.

"Where're we goin' anyway?"

"Florrum."

"Florrum?"

"Hondo wants to see you." The smiled turned wicked. "Now, about my jailbreak fee; will you be paying in credits or will we have to make... other arrangement?"

Bane considered this. It had been a hard week in prison and what he really wanted to do right was curl up with a bottle of Corellian brandy and a copy of Blasters and Ammo, but credits were credits and he had an almost religious objection to giving them away when there was an alternative means of transacting.

"Dese 'other arrangements'. What exactly are we talkin' about?"

She told him.

He groaned. He was going to be flat on his back for a week after this one.


	35. The Infamous Collection (Hondo/Aurra/Cad, Hondo/Cad/A complete lack of common sense)

As the putrid light of day faded and the murky neon glow of evening filtered in through the bedroom window, Number Six and Number Twenty-eight on the Republic's Most Wanted list struggled to free themselves from their bonds.

“Dis is all chur fault,” Bane griped, attempting to wriggle his right arm out of the intricate set of knots and loops that held it in place. It was no good though, the whole thing had been done with the kind of technical artistry few mercenaries could muster. 

“My fault?” Hondo sounded genuinely taken aback by the notion.

“It was chur idea.”

“You were the one who brought the subject up.”

“Only because choo mentioned lightsaber crystals. I was makin’ conversation.” Drunk conversation, he thought to himself. Drunk and stupid conversation. There was, after all, a reason why he’d never tried to pull a stunt like this before. “Everyone’s heard about her damned collection.” He gave a short laugh. “Though I shoulda known that the only lightsabers she’d keep in dis place would have a vibrate setting.”

Hondo shook his head. “What I don’t understand is why she’d need five of them.”

There was a pause in which the pair continued to manfully struggle against their fate.

“Kark it,” Bane muttered as his endeavour to free his left arm ended in much the same way as that to release his right. “What d’you think she’ll do to us anyway.”

“Well, the last time I tried to borrow her things, she kept me bound for a few hours and then untied me when I said I’d do that thing with my fingers she likes, but...”

“But what?”

The pirate sighed. “This time she might have found out about a little conversation I had with Kenobi about the planned assassination of some Senate Representative.”

“Dat was choo?” As one of the bounty hunters party to the aborted plot, Bane tried and failed to work up some anger on this point. It was difficult to sustain any real fury at a man when you were facing the Wrath of Aurra together.

“What could I do? He’d just had my favourite ship impounded.”

Deciding that his current strategy wasn’t working, Bane ceased his squirming. “Perhaps she’ll sell us to the Republic.... Der are worse things than a few weeks in de Coruscant pen and choo can even....”

He trailed off as he spotted the figure in the doorway: tall, lithe, pale... and looking like she’d just stepped out of an episode of Bondage Mistresses of Nar Shaddaa.

Beside him, Hondo audibly groaned. “Oh my dear, there was no need to go to all this trouble for our benefit.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Smiling wickedly, she stalked towards the black and red lacquered chest at the foot of the bed. The chest that the two would be burglars now absolutely, positively knew did not contain anything that would be found in the standard issue Jedi field kit.

“Now, you’re both going to spend the rest of the night persuading me not to auction you off to the highest bidder.”


	36. Cad Bane Versus Domesticity (Cad/Aurra)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Ajinori on devArt, who requested an Aurra/Cad ficlet in which: "...they do something pretty suburban (or at least suburban for these two) and it starts to freak Bane out."

"Hey, Aurra, I'm home."

The unease struck before the words had finished leaving mouth. Why had he felt the urge to declare his return to his co-conspirator? And – perhaps more importantly – why was he referring to this dump as home? It was a hideaway. A bolt hole. A convenient out of the way place to lie low and plan the next job.

Blinking as if trying to dislodge the thoughts, he wandered into the residential units living area and encountered a sight that left him feeling even more unsettled: Aurra, lounging on the sofa in the bathrobe he'd stolen from the Coruscant Hil'Tuhn Hotel, a copy of Blasters and Ammo in one hand and a lit tabac stick in the other.

It wasn't the informality of the pose that bothered him per se. Hell, in the last six months alone he'd had her on top of him, underneath him, bent over tables and – on three particularly memorable occasions – been bent over tables by her. No, he could accept that their acquaintanceship had, for better or worse, crossed the line whereby being partially clothed in one another's presence was a routine occurrence. It was the unselfconsciousness that got him. The way she looked as if she didn't have anything to prove. Aurra always had something to prove dammit. Especially around him. Sure, they might share a predilection for rough sex, voyeurism and kinky S&M games that they struggled to sate elsewhere, but he was still her greatest professional rival.

"Any luck with Embo?" she said, stubbing out the tabac stick in the ashtray he'd lifted from a Senate gathering fifteen years earlier(1).

"Not interested," Bane said. He purposefully refrained from mentioning that Embo's sole reason for not wishing to participate in the scheme was that he didn't want to work with that "deranged bitch, Sing"(2), before inwardly starting at his reasons for doing so. Since when had stopped trying to provoke her for the sake of a quiet life? He liked provoking her. Affront her just enough and she got that oh so amusing expression of enraged petulance. Granted, it meant that she'd be rather less inclined to put out afterwards (or at least only inclined to put out in a manner that would lead to him requiring a few applications of bacta in the morning), but he could always head on down to the nearest massage parlour(3)

Now though... now all he wanted to do was sit down, have a drink and possibly solicit a nice relaxing handjob from his temporary cohabitant while watching reruns of that documentary on life in the Muunilinst credit stamping press(4).

What the kark was happening to him?

"Try Alama," she said, stretching. "He's dumb muscle, but that's all we need." Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she added: "Your dinner's in the oven."

For a few moments he was struck dumb. Not quite able to process the utterly un-Aurra-like words she'd just uttered.

When he did managed to respond it was in the form of a strangled: "What?"

"I couldn't very well let it go cold on the counter, could I? Not after all that hard work."

"You cooked it... choor'self?" A cold trickle of fear ran through him. It was wrong, it was unnatural, it was...

"The neighbour gave me the recipe."

...horribly, painfully suburban.

"Neighbour? You've been talkin' to de neighbours?" 

She shrugged. "You told me not to shoot them on sight. Anyway, her name's Tsoo-Tse Homaikur and she's invited us to a dinner party."

"A dinner party?" Bane repeated. The trickle of fear turned into a torrent.

"I said yes. It seemed rude not to after all the baby clothes she gave to me."

"Baby clothes?" His voice was a near whimper now. What the hell had happened to Aurra? His sadistic, spiteful, sexy, shoot-you-as-soon-as-look-at-you, Aurra.

She went on, seemingly oblivious to his mounting horror, her voice gradually adopting more and more of that grating tone commonly employed by holo-soap housewives. "I told her that we couldn't have children of our own and that Todo was our adopted droid baby substitute.... You should see him in the little green bonnet. Anyway, she think that you worked as a wages clerk for that big ore reprocessing outfit, so you'll have to put on a cheap grey suit and talk about accountancy. Of course, we'll have to ask them round next week. We can't have them thinking that we're the sort of people who—"

Bane did not hear the rest. The panicked yelp emanating from his own throat was enough to halt her increasingly insipid blatherings.

"Kark it Aurra. What de hell have dey done to you? Dis morning you were throwing knives at a picture of dat little Senator piece from Naboo. Now choo're talkin' about dinner parties and... and droid babies." He knew he was sounding increasingly hysterical but couldn't quite seem to do anything to bring it under control. "It's like dat damned holo, de Wives of Stehp'fard Prime."

For a few moments she regarded him with what seemed like near-bovine passivity. Then she started to convulse. At first Bane thought that the neural wiring for her antenna must have gone caput. However, the moment she opened her mouth the truth became clear.

She was laughing.

Laughing hard, gleefully and entirely as his expense.

"The look on your face, Bane." she choked out, before lapsing back into mirth. 

"Why choo...."Relieved yet at the same time thoroughly furious, he launched himself at her.

Aurra, too consumed with merriment to retaliate in her usual fashion, didn't bother to resist when the Duros pinned her on her back and shoved the bathrobe open.

Five minutes later Bane was alternating between grunts, rasps and uttering filthy endearments, while Aurra, for her part, just made increasingly incoherent demands to be fucked like he goddamn meant it.

Ten minutes later, the Duros was spent, head buried in the crook of a long pale neck.

"Sooo, is my dinner really in de oven?" he asked, spitting a stray braid of hair out of his mouth.

"Yes." Aurra snorted. "I ordered out on one of your Solar Cards. Your little rust bucket was refusing to cook. He's a Techno Service Droid apparently."

"Where is he anyway?"

"Sulking in the bedroom like a jealous lover. I think he thinks I'm trying to steal you away." She shifted underneath him. "I didn't actually put a bonnet on him if that's what you're worried about."

He chuckled the mental image now amusing rather than terrifying. "You're a twisted woman, Aurra Sing."

She smirked. "Don't pretend you don't like it."

Suddenly cognizant of a certain strange intimacy between the two of them, part of Bane recoiled. The rest of him however figured that as long as it didn't involve suburban dinner parties, cheap grey suits or droid babies he could live with it.

-0-

(1)In the days before Senator Amidala's clean air laws had sent the tabac smoking real-politik contingent scurrying out onto a narrow open-air balcony in a sorry little huddle.

(2)It sounded more poetic when spoken in Embo's native language.

(3)Even if their Exquisite Emerald Twi'lek Harem Girls did look suspiciously like Rodians with papier-mâché lekku attached.

(4)He told himself each time that he was preparing himself for a big career topping heist, but really there was just something about all those newly minted credits cascading off the production line that got him almost as excited as the annual Miss Galactic Wet T-shirt contest.


	37. Bad Habit (Hondo/Aurra)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for CaptureByDesign on devArt who wanted to see "a tender moment between Hondo and Aurra". Naturally the setup required a little background ultra-violence.

Spicewine flask in hand, Hondo Ohnaka surveyed the carnage around him with what could best be described as cursory interest. None of it shocked or alarmed him. One did not, after all, become the Sertar Sector's most feared (or at the very least most infamous) brigand without developing a somewhat pragmatic attitude towards death(1). Nor did one remain Aurra Sing's on and off lover for over a decade if one had any inclinations towards squeamishness.

"A good day's work for you, my dear," he said, turning his gaze to the form warming its hands on the small camp fire.

There was a snort, bitter and amused in about equal measure. "I didn't get what I came for." Aurra's voice betrayed surprisingly little anger.

"Four out of five isn't bad," he said, gesturing to the row of gagged, bound and heavily sedated Aqualish laid out next to a large hunk of metal that looked as though it might have once been the back end of some kind of ground assault vehicle.

"It was the fifth that counted."

Hondo glanced at the lifeless Nautolan they had placed to the left of their captives and shrugged. "Someone will pay something for the corpse.... A considerable something."

"Not as much as Jabba would have for bringing him in alive."

The pirate shrugged and took a glug of his spicewine. "These things happen."

"This one wouldn't if you hadn't killed him."

"He was hurting you."

"I could have taken it, Hondo. I would have had him in the end."

Hondo knew that what she said was probably true. She'd endured worse injuries and subdued stronger men. But when he'd seen the bastard stab her in the leg and then seize her around the neck, taking hold of the Nautolan and beating him until he stopped moving (and indeed breathing) had seemed at that moment like the most natural and legitimate of responses.

"It was...." Through the mild spice induced haze in his mind he sought for the right word. "It was instinctive."

She gave another snort. "Pity you couldn't have been instinctive when that Kel-Dor and Skywalker's brat showed up on Florrum."

"That was different." He wished that she could spend a day in his presence without bringing that one up.

Her lip curled. "Of course it was different. That Jedi scum might have actually succeeded in killing me."

He sighed. "I warned you that getting involved with them was never a good idea, but would you listen?" Then, despite himself a brief smile tugged at his mouth. "Of course not. Aurra Sing never listens to anybody, unless they tell her to do what's she already wants to do. I should know that.... But you brought the Jedi to my door and I had no wish to deal with the results." He didn't mention that, despite everything, he'd felt just a little guilty when he'd watch Slave One go down. Let the woman know just how far under his rough Weequay skin she'd managed to get and she'd play him for all he was worth. Quay knew, she'd done it before.

Of all the females in all of the Galaxy why had his younger self gone and fallen for this one?

"You asked me to come here and watch your back," he went on. "So I did."

She didn't say anything, opting instead to poke at the fire with a long, thin bit of duraplastic debris.

Muttering something about troublesome women, Hondo checked the bindings on the Nautolan's four lackeys, before sitting down next to her on the upturned cargo container she was using as a makeshift bench. Up close he could see that she was looking thoroughly dejected.

"What's the matter?" he said. "You can't need the money that badly."

"I can't afford any more kark-ups, Hondo. Not after Alderaan."

"What, that Senator?" he failed to suppress a small chuckle.

Aurra cuffed him on the back of the head, but there was no conviction in the blow. "It was humiliating."

"So, you got overconfident. It happens to all of you bounty hunters eventually. You'll do better next time." He diplomatically refrained from pointing out that overconfidence and a tendency grandstand had always been her failing. To his knowledge only Jango Fett had ever managed to get away with that kind of critique of her hunting skills.

"This was 'next time'." Despite the fire and the warm evening, she visibly shivered as a breeze ran through the valley.

"You're cold?" He touched the side of her face that wasn't sporting a huge grey-blue bruise. She felt like ice.

"It's those Malastarian healing agents," she explained. "They burn you up then cool you down."

He looked at her various injuries. The ones on her neck, face and arms were relatively superficial and fading fast as the medicaments did their work. The wound on her thigh was another matter. Unless they got their hands on some bacta it'd take days, possibly weeks, to knit up properly.

Poor Aurra.

Hondo knew what she was and what she was capable of. Knew that even by most underworld standards she was beyond the pale. Yet there was something about seeing her like this that brought out a whole slew of oddly protective feelings. It had been that way ever since Jango had brought her along on that Corporate Sector job. He hadn't realised quite how resilient - or indeed dangerous - she was back then, but the instinct had never entirely faded.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, he shrugged off his beloved red coat and wrapped it around her. For a second she stiffened, clearly surprised, then the sides of her mouth quirked upwards and she nudged up closer. Returning the smile he wrapped an arm around her and offered her the flask.

She took several long gulps before handing it back, almost empty.

"My pirate," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder, antenna thankfully retracted.

"My troublesome, dangerous woman."

She made a soft, contented noise.

In the distance he could hear his men taking apart the remains of the Nautolan's ship. Despite Aurra's failure to take her bounty alive this had been a good day for the Ohnaka gang. The contraband cargo of gems, spice and deathsticks more than made up for the effort expended. Still, right now this seemed a slightly distant consideration, the body against him taking up most of his immediate attention.

He knew that, all things considered, he'd be better off selling her out to the Jedi or any of the other organisations and beings who'd be willing to pay for her head. But he also knew he'd never do it. He'd loved her once and, despite nearly getting him killed on sixteen separate occasions, the feeling hadn't entirely gone away. She was cruel, sadistic and self-interested, but she wasn't wholly incapable of affection, and it was the rare demonstrations of such that induced an odd sense of loyalty.

She shifted against him.

"Do you remember what I said to you that first time on Boonta?" she said, voice suddenly husky.

Hondo tried to cast his mind back. "You can't put that in there, it's too big?" he said, speaking the first recollection that came to mind

"After that."

He thought again. "That you wouldn't kill me unless somebody offered you one million credits?"

"I lied," she said, reaching to stroke his chest.

"You did?"

She made a noise of assent. "They'd have to quadruple it and throw in a star fighter."

Aware that this was very probably the closest thing to a declaration of eternal devotion he was ever going to get from her, he grinned like an idiot.

She was a bad habit, but he knew that he'd never be entirely able to give her up.

-0-

(1) Which is to say that if somebody absolutely positively had to die in a given situation one should always endeavour to ensure that it was the other guy.


	38. Break Up, Start Again (Hondo/Cad, Hondo/Aurra)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for CaptureByDesign on devArt, who requested "Hondo/Cad after Hondo and Aurra break up!"

"Well, my friend, I suppose it could have been worse."

Bane watched as the pirate's hand moved shakily towards the nearest bottle of spicewine. Under normal circumstances he might have sneered. Would at the very least have cast some snide aspersions on Weequayan masculinity. However, given the scene he'd just witnessed, he was inclined to feel more than a little impressed that forced jollity and a mild tremor in the hand were the only signs of discomposure Ohnaka was displaying.

"Sure, she could have put a hole in your chest."

"She did that once." Ohnaka took several glugs from the bottle. "Her mark was behind me and she just shot right through."

"And you took her back afterwards?" Bane refilled his own glass with Corellian brandy.

"Wellll, she did manage to avoid hitting anything important."

Bane shook his head. "Choo're crazier than I thought."

"She can be nice when it suits her." Ohnaka said, sounding almost whistful. Then he straightened. "But no, this time I've had enough. It's over. Done. Finished. She's not longer welcome here. That wench has destroyed my property and endangered my men for the last time." As if to punctuate the remark he drained the bottle and then slammed it down on the bar counter.

"So you've ditched her for de last time."

"Exactly."

For a moment Bane considered pointing out that Ohnaka had dumped Aurra for the last time on at least seven previous occasions, but something stopped him.

"Well, dere's plenty more...." He sought for the right phrase. "... credits in de mint." He instantly regretted the metaphor. There might well be plenty of credits in the mint, but he was firmly of the mind that they should all belong to Cad Bane... a mindset he did not apply to attractive sentients at large.

"Credits are no use out here my friend," Ohnaka muttered, suddenly crashing from self-affirmational triumph to out-and-out maudlin. "But what could I do? It was lose one Aurra or lose all of my gang." He sighed and gestured for the droid behind the bar to bring him another bottle, which he drained in even shorter order than the first.

In an uncharacteristic show of fellowship Bane knocked back the contents of his glass.

"Choo've got to look on de bright side," he said. "No more crashed starfighters. No more attitude. No more spendin' weeks in bacta because dat bitch's idea of 'acceptable risk' is choor idea of 'suicidal stupidity'."

"No more listening to anti-Jedi rants in the early hours of the morning. No more not getting invited to revels because the host's scared that I'll bring her with me...."

"Dat's de spirit." Bane helped himself to another Corellian brandy.

"No more fights over jobs going wrong..." Ohnaka snorted and then frowned. "No more making up afterwards. No more sitting on my lap when jobs go right. No more...." He made an utterly filthy gesture.

"She does dat?" Bane gave a long low whistle and made a mental note to pay Aurra a visit next time she was on Coruscant.

The pirate groaned. "My friend you have no idea."

Bane was not a Duros known for his magnanimity, but there was something in Ohnaka's forlorn expression that caused his mouth to utter words his brain would usually never allow without the solid promise of at least fifty-thousand credits, half up front.

"Choo know, she's not de only bounty hunter who can pull off a few 'lightsaber tricks'."

For a second the pirate stared at him. Then a smile, hopeful verging on puppyish formed on his face.

"You'd do that.... For me?"

Suddenly embarrassed, Bane shrugged his shoulders. "Jus' dis once, but don't think I'm—"

He was cut off by a sudden full body hug.

"Oh, my friend, what a night we shall have." Then, all thoughts dangerous women with long pale legs temporarily fleeing from his mind, Hondo Ohnaka slung his new best friend over his shoulder and made his way towards his quarters.

Grasping onto his hat, Bane swore and tried to drum up some anger to either the pirate or his own lapse in misanthropy. To his consternation none succeeded in manifesting.

Never mind, a mental voice that sounded unpleasantly redolent of that damned Jedi Kenobi piped up. At least you'll be able to find out if Sing was telling the truth about his equipment.

He groaned. If she had been telling the truth he'd be applying bacta and sitting on a cushion for days.


	39. Mr and Mrs (Hondo/Aurra)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a request for a 'serious Hondo/Aurra wedding fic'. Now, put the words 'Hondo/Aurra' and 'wedding' in the same prompt and total seriousness is just not a place that I can go to. However, I did my best and took a shot at a tragi-comic tale of co-dependent dysfunctionality.

As his eyes ran over the flowers, the décor, the wine casks and the expansive buffet one thought resounded through Obi-Wan Kenobi's mind.

"Hondo, why in the name of the Force are you doing this?"

"I already told you. With all the temples, shrines and monasteries we've raided, there's not a cleric or holy man in the sector who'd agree to officiate. You were the next best thing.... But don't worry, my friend, I've made it quite clear to Aurra that we're not going to end the ceremony with any sort of ritual Jedi slaying."

"What I mean is why do you want to marry Her?"

For a moment the pirate hesitated, the words seeming to catch him off guard. Then he gave a rather too wide grin and clapped his captive on the back.

"For the money, Kenobi. My great-uncle's last testament was very clear." He took a sleek and decidedly official looking datapad from somewhere within his coat and proffered it.

Obi-Wan scanned the contents.

"Two-hundred thousand credits in the event of your marriage to 'a healthy female being who isn't a common harlot'. One-hundred thousand credits in the event of your marriage to 'any other sort of being'. Seven-hundred thousand credits on the birth of you first legitimate child—"

"Don't mention that one to Aurra," Hondo interrupted. "She wouldn't take well to the idea."

"I thought that credits weren't any use out here in the Outer Rim?"

"Wellll, they're not, per se, but we can exchange them for Spice with one of the Coruscanti traders on Nar Shaddaa."

"I seem to recall hearing that your despicable raid on that off course pleasure cruiser netted gold, gems, spice and hostages worth in excess of three-million credits? I would have thought that two-hundred thousand credits was a rather poxy amount in comparison. Certainly no reason to go to all this trouble."

"Ah yes, but when it comes to pirating I have to share the booty with the rest of the gang. The rest of the gang don't have to marry Aurra, so we only have to split the wealth two ways."

"So you'll only have one-hundred thousand credits... and if I'm not mistaken she'll be entitled to half of everything you own."

Hondo visibly gulped, before trying to cover up the reaction with an uncharacteristically shaky laugh. "Yes, but I'll be entitled to half of everything she owns too."

"If you managed to find out where she's stockpiled it." The Jedi shook his head. "You have to face facts Hondo, this marriage doesn't make any financial sense."

The pirate opened his mouth as if to start protesting and then sighed. "It's my mother."

"Oh?"

"Before she died she made me swear that I'd be decently married by the end of this year."

"But surely you don't have to do it."

"I promised."

"You're a pirate."

"She was my mother."

The vehemence in Hondo's voice was enough to make the Jedi cease this line of argument. It was clear that there were some warped and twisted points of honour the pirate would not be moved from. He sought a different tact.

"Why Aurra?"

"Why not?"

"Surely there are less dangerous women out there?"

For a while Hondo said nothing. Obi-Wan started to suspect that his query wouldn't be graced by a reply. Then the Weequay gave another sigh and shrugged helplessly.

"If I married someone else, I wouldn't be her favourite pirate anymore."

-o0O0o-

It was often said that all brides looked beautiful on their wedding day.

Having once witnessed the matrimonial joining of two Gran sneak thieves, Cad Bane was firmly of the mind that this sentiment was a crock of Bantha excrement. However, he had to admit that Aurra was carrying off the dress quite well, even if the blasters and holsters were totally incongruous with the rest of the aesthetic.

"How do I look?"

"Like one of dem fairy story ice-maidens." He smirked. "Not dat maiden's an accurate description in dis context."

She narrowed her eyes but did not attempt to blaster whip him in her usual fashion. This, he knew, had more to do with the sanctity of the silk rather than any forgiveness of his transgressions.

"Still don't know why you're doin' dis." He said, as she adjusted her tiara.

"I'm doing it for the money."

"Sure, sure." He snorted. "You ain't a whore, Sing. If you were you wouldn't have turned down de offer dat Falleen on Gold Moon Station made. Coulda earned more on your back in twenty minutes than we got for de entire Dantooine job."

"It's not whoring if you marry the person."

"Same underlyin' principle."

She muttered something highly uncomplimentary about Duros masculinity.

He chuckled. "So what is it den. He knocked choo up or something?"

For a second he thought she was about to draw a blaster and start making him dance. Then her fists clenched and her mouth was drawn into an expression that was frighteningly close to a pout.

"He said that if I wouldn't do it he'd find somebody else who would."


	40. No Freebies (Hondo/Cad, implied Aurra/Cad)

As the pirate's hand made a grab for his posterior, Cad Bane spun around and seized it hard at the wrist.

"What was that for?" Hondo looked wounded.

Snarling Bane tightened his grip. "Choo do dat again and I'll break chur arm."

Hondo's hurt expression was replaced by one of amusement. "Ah, my friend, you've already tried that. The Weequay constitution is more than a match for your bounty hunter tricks."

He scowled as he was assaulted by the memory of that embarrassing incident. The only blessing had been that Sing hadn't been there to witness it firsthand. "I've been practicing since den."

The pirate sighed, kicked baby Tauntaun look returning.

Bane released his grip. "Look Ohnaka, I ain't goin' to start dishin' out freebies."

"You dish it out to Aurra for free."

"She's got tits."

Hondo seemed to ponder this. "The joke shop supplies we took from that Rodian cargo ship included many very amusing false bosoms."

Bane made a face of disgust as his mind was once again unwillingly accosted, this time by a mental image that was as horrifying as it was hilarious. "De kind of tits choo actually want to look at.... Besides, I'm the one who gets to stick it in her not de other way around."

The pirate smirked. "She tells it a little differently."

Dat kinky bitch would, he thought, gritting his teeth. "Exceptions dat prove de rule."

"You could make an exception for me."

"No I couldn't, it'd be bad for business. Word gets out dat I'm lettin' some idiot Weequay bang away for free an' dey'll all be wantin' a discount."

"I wouldn't tell anybody."

Bane gave a short, harsh laugh. "Chur de man who put out an invite to his next act of piracy on Holobook."

At this Hondo did at least have the decency to look embarrassed. "The post was set to Friends Only... I just forgot that I'd added Kenobi. But I can keep a secret. After all, I've never told anybody about the time Aurra caught the Corellian Clap from a Nautolan wrestler."

"Choo just told me," Bane pointed out, immediately filing the information under 'Material to be Cited Next Time She Brings Up the Unfortunate (and Consequently Itchy) Incident With the Togrutan Acrobats'.

"Exception that proves the rule."

"I don't want any damned exceptions with dis.... Besides, it's de principle of de thing."

Hondo gave an exaggerated – and in Bane's opinion entirely too melodramatic – sigh and shook his head. "Very well my friend. I see that I shall be having another cold and lonely night." Then coughing he muttered something that sounded rather like: Time for Plan B.

"What did choo say?"

"Time for some tea."

"Tea?" Bane regarded him incredulously.

Hondo beamed. "Special tea, made with a mixture of rare spices. I've developed quite a taste for it."

"I sure as hell ain't touchin' it."

"Of course, of course. Aurra told me it that it would be far too potent for the Duros palette." He gestured to the droid behind the bar. "One special tea for me and one bottle of Corellian Brandy for my friend."

Bane frowned. "Too potent?"

"It's very strong. A few sips and you wouldn't know what you were doing."

He visibly bristled. "Is dat so?"

"Well you wouldn't want any treacherous pirate captains taking advantage of your intoxicated state, would you, eh?" Hondo clapped him companionably on the back.

Eyes narrowing at this obvious insult to his head for spice, Bane snapped his fingers at the bar droid and beckoned it back. "Make dat one cup of special tea... and one jug."

He didn't quite catch what Hondo muttered next, but it did seem to feature the phrase 'ingenius plan'.


End file.
